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M. F. 

Aaron Boggs, Freshman, 3 

acts, 2J4 hrs (2Sc) 8 8 

Abbu San of Old Japan, 2 acts, 

2 hrs (25c) 15 

After the Game, 2 acts, IJ^ 

hrs (25c) 1 9 

All a Mistake, 3 acts, 2 hrs. 

(25c) 4 4 

All on Account of Polly, 3 acts, 

214 hrs (25c) 6 10 

American Hustler, 4 acts, 2J4 

hrs (25c) 7 4 

As a Woman Thinketh, 3 acts, 

2^^ hrs (25c) 9 7 

At the End of the Rainbow, 3 

acts, 2% hrs (25c) 6 14 

Bank Cashier, 4 acts, 2 hrs. 

(25c) 8 4 

Black Heifer, 3 acts, 2 h. (25c) 9 3 
Boy Scout Hero, 2 acts, 1^ hrs. 

(25c) 17 

Brookdale Farm, 4 acts, 2^ 

hrs (25c) 7 3 

Brother Josiah, 3 acts, 2 hrs. 

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Burns Rebellion, 1 hr (25c) 8 5 

Busy Liar, 3 acts, 2^ h. (25c) 7 4 
Civil Service, 3 acts, 2^/4 hrs. 

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College Town, 3 acts, 2% 

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Danger Signal, 2 acts, 2 hrs. . 7 4 
Daughter of the Desert, 4 

acts, 2J4 hrs (25c) 6 4 , 

Deacon Dubbs, 3 acts, 2^4 hrs. 

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Deacon Entangled, 3 acts, 2 hrs. 

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Down in Dixie, 4 acts, 2^/$ 

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Dream That Came True, 3 

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Editor-in-Chief, 1 hr....(25c) 10 
Enchanted Wood, 1^ h.(35c).Optnl. 
Everyyouth, 3 acts, 134 h. (25c) 7 6 
Face at the Window, 3 acts, 2 

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Fun on the Podunk Limited, 

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Heiress of Hoetown, 3 acts, 2 

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Her Honor, the Mayor, 3 acts, 

2 hrs. (25c) 3 5 

High School Freshman, 3 acts, 

2 hrs. (2Sc)12 

Honor of a Cowbov, 4 acts, 2^ 

hrs '. (25c) 13 4 

Indian Days, 1 hr (SOc) 5 2 



M. F. 

In Plum Valley, 4 acts, 2J4 

hrs (25c) 6 4 

Iron Hand, 4 acts, 2 hrs.. (25c) 5 4 
Jayville Junction, ly^ hrs.(25c)14 17 
Kicked Out of College, 3 acts, 

214, hrs (25c) 10 9 

Kingdom of Heart's Content, 3 

acts, 234 hrs .(25c) 6 12 

Laughing Cure, 2 acts, If^ hrs. 

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Lexington, 4 acts,' 214 h. .(25c) 9 4 
Little Buckshot, 3 acts, 2% hrs. 

(:5c) 7 4 

Lodge of Kye Tyes, 1 hr.(25c)13 
Man from Borneo, 3 acts, 2 

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Mirandy's Minstrels (25c) Optn!. 

Mrs. Tubbs of Shantytown, 3 

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New Woman, 3 acts, 1 hr. . . . 3 6 
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Old Oaken Bucket, 4 acts, 2 

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Old School at Hick'ry Holler, 

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On the Little Big Horn, 4 acts, 

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Poor Married Man, 3 acts, 2 

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Rustic Romeo, 2 acts, 2^ 

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Sewing for the He^_then, 40 min. 9 
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Star Bright, 3 acts, 2^ h. (25c) 6 5 
Teacher, Kin I Go Home? 2 

scenes, 35 min 7 3 

Those Dreadful Twins, 3 acts, 

2 hrs , (25c) 6 4 

Thread of Destiny, 3 acts, 2»4 

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Tony, the Convict, 5 acts, 2^4 

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Town Marshal, 4 acts, 2^4 

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Trial of Hearts, 4 acts, 2J4 hrs. 

(25c) 6 18 

Trip to Storyland, 1J4 hrs.(25c) 17 23 
Uncle Josh, 4 acts, 2% hrs. (25c) 8 3 
Under Blue Skies, 4 acts, 2 

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When the Circus Came to 

Town, 3 acts, 2^4 hrs. (25c) 5 3 



T. S. DENISON & COMPANY, Publlshers,154 W. Randolph St. , Chicago 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 



A COMEDY DRAMA 
In Three Acts 



BY 

SHELDON PARMER 

AUTHOR OF 

"An Ar{::o}ia Cozvboy," "Safety First," etc. 




CHICAGO 

T. S. DENISON & COMPANY 

Publishers 



LIGHTHOUSE NANrJ^J^ 



PERSONS IN THE PLAY. 



V^ 



Hon. John Enlow. .President of the Seacoast Banking Co. 

Ned Blake His Private Secretary 

IcHABOD Buzzer The Old Keeper of the Lighthouse 

Sir Arthur Choke A British Aristocrat 

Injun Jim A Bad Man 

Nan ■ A Little Roustabout 

Moll Buzzer The Gentle Antelope 

Hon. Sarah Chumley-Choke Arthur's Sister 

Hortense Enlow A City Belle 

Fishermen. 



Act I — The exterior of a rough lighthouse on the Caro- 
lina coast. Nan begins her education. 

Act II — Same scene. Ten days later. Nan continues her 
education. 

Act III — Library in John Enlow's city home. Two years 
later. Nan completes her education. 



Time — Present Day. 



Time of Playing — Two Hoitrs and Fifteen Minutes. 



Notice. — Production of this play is free to amateurs, but the 
sole professional rights are reserved by the author, who may be 
addressed in care of the Publishers. 



COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY EBBN H. J^jJRRIS. 

2 ^ ^^ 

^ OCT 20 1917^ 

©CI.D 48098 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 



STORY OF THE PLAY 



This powerful, absorbing play is presented to amateurs 
for the first time with the assurance that it will continue 
to please audiences for many years to come as it has done 
in the past. It was originally presented by the Van Dyke- 
Eaton Stock Company and has always proved a financial 
success. The audience is made to feel that they have actu- 
ally known and lived among the characters, smiling at their 
joys, sympathizing with their sorrows and rejoicing in the 
happy ending. 

\Vhile the story is not a novelty, each act teems with 
bright dialogue and quick action, the situations are natural 
and work themselves to a happy ending in a logical, con- 
cise manner. It is a melodramatic story of refinement, and 
while the situations are strong they are not lurid, and the 
comedy is clean-cut and human. 

The play opens in a rough lighthouse on the Carolina coast. 
Ned Blake, from the city, is spending his vacation here and 
has been captivated with the cheerfulness and artless sim- 
plicity of a young girl. Nan, supposed to be the grand- 
daughter of Ichabod Buzzer, the old lighthouse keeper. 
Nan has grown up in her rough surroundings as a wild 
flower, beautiful and innocent, with no knowledge of the 
great world that lies over the mountains. Ned Blake has 
taught her to read and succeeds in winning her girlish heart. 
A party of Ned's friends come to visit him and spend sev- 
eral days at the lighthouse. In the party is Mr. John Enlow, 
whose baby girl had been abducted many years before by 
Injun Jim, the son-in-law of Ichabod Buzzer. Jim's wife, 
Liza Buzzer, returns the baby to Enlow after Jim has been 
sent to the penitentiary, but instead of returning the right- 
ful heiress, she substitutes her own child and Lighthouse 
Nan proves to be John Enlow's daughter. 

Injun Jim meets Hortense Enlow, who is really his own 
daughter, and tells her the secret of her birth. She bribes 
him to obtain the proofs of his story from old Moll 
Buzzer, Ichabod's wife. He attempts to steal these papers 
at night but is frustrated by Nan, who rings the alarm 



4 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

bell and awakens the village. John Enlow has taken a 
fancy to Nan, not knowing that she is his real daughter, 
and offers to send her away for two years to boarding- 
school. The last act reveals the library in Enlow's city 
home. It is Christmas Day and Nan is coming home for 
a vacation. Ned Blake, still in love with Nan, has become 
suspicious of Hortense, who shows an unexplainable inter- 
est in Indian Jim, her real father, who has been sent to 
the penitentiary. Ned, suspecting the truth, sends for Icha- 
bod and Moll Buzzer in an effort to clear up the mystery 
of Nan's birth. 

In the meantime Hortense has secretly wedded an English 
baronet, and when the truth is known that, she is really 
the child of Injun Jim and Liza Buzzer, John Enlow 
kindly conceals this fact from her husband and they depart 
to begin life anew in the old world. Enlow tells the world 
that Nan is his adopted daughter and heiress and the play 
ends happily with a chime of Christmas bells and "peace 
on earth, good-will to men !" 

Comedy scenes are interwoven with the dramatic story, 
the bibulous old Cap'n Ichabod Buzzer, his tyrannical wife, 
the English baronet, the mule January (who doesn't appear) 
and the antics of Nan herself furnish the audience with 
many a laugh. 



SYNOPSIS FOR THE PROGRAM. 

Act I — Outside a Carolina lighthouse, 'long about sun- 
down. The gentle antelope and the keeper of the light- 
house. Injun Jim starts trouble. "Mrs. Buzzer, you got 
the bottle, allow me to present you with the cork." Nan 
and Ned overcome Injun Jim. "I'm an Injun, and an Injun 
never forgets a wrong!" Nan learns to read. The locket. 
"That's the face I always dream about. Oh, Mr. Blake, 
do you reckon she is my sure-enough mother?" Ned saves 
Nan from Moll. The visitors from the city. Sir Arthur, 
the speculator. "I never seen a real live speckled-tater 
afore." Nan goes hunting for a mollie cottontail and catches 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 5 

an Injun. "Stand right whar you are, or I'll blow you clean 
into Kingdom Come \" 

Act II — Same scene, ten days later. Cap'n Buzzer and 
his mule January. "That 'ere mule gits more'n' more like 
my wife every day he lives." The picnic to see the sunset. 
Nan bapsouses a biddy hen to keep her from setting. Eng- 
land vs. America. "We've fed old England, we gave her 
a warm breakfast in 1776, and a boilin' dinner "in 1812." 
Nan poses as a lady, with disastrous results. Ned finds 
his wild rose. "You talk jest like the Bible." An aw- 
ful load for old January. Injun Jim's secret. "I am 
your father !" The disgrace of Hortense. Ichabod goes 
to town. "She might take it in her gentle head to lock me 
out, and Fm gittin' too old to sleep with January !" Mr. 
Enlow decides to give Nan a chance and send her to school. 
Injun Jim and Nan. The ringing of the bell. "Hands up, 
Injun Jim !" 

Act III — Two years later. Mr. Enlow's library on 
Christmas night. Ned begins to suspect Hortense. "I'll 
have the truth at last if it takes every dollar I'm worth." 
Hortense objects to Nan. "Either she leaves this house 
tomorrow, or I leave it !" Nan comes home from boarding 
school. The mysterious baby. Nan and Ned disagree and 
then make it all up. Ichabod and Moll visit the city. The 
Cap'n sits on the couch. "Holy mackerel, I thought I set 
on a cat." Hortense bribes Moll. Sarah flirts with Ned 
but is disappointed. A pressing engagement in the con- 
servatory. Nan and the Cap'n. "January's got the heaves, 
old Sukey's got a calf, the old red hen's got ten little chicks 
and the blacksmith's wife's got twins. Population is shore 
a-growin' !" Hortense tries to destroy the papers. The gen- 
erosity of John Enlow. All is right at last ; with the ringing 
of Christmas chimes comes peace on earth, good-will to 
men ! 

COSTUMES. 

Mr. Enlow — Gray hair and mustache. Eyeglasses. 
Yachting suit in Acts I and II. Full evening dress in 
Act III. 



6 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

Ned — ^Juvenile make-up. Hunting suit in Act I. Yacht- 
ing suit in Act 11. Evening dress in Act III. Aged about 24. 

IcHABOD — White wig, beard and eyebrows. Red cheeks 
and nose. Old clothes and hat in Acts I and II. Tarpaulin, 
if possible. Boots. Store clothes for Act III. Clothes too 
small. Aged about 68. 

Sir Arthur — Juvenile make-up. Yachting suit in Acts I 
and II. Monocle. Full evening dress in Act III. Over- 
coat and top-hat for last entrance. 

Injun Jim — Aged 40. A dark-skinned burly tramp. 
Ragged clothes and hat. Straight black hair, but no other 
indication of Indian blood. 

Nan — Long yellow curls. Short ragged dress in Acts I 
and II. Torn stockings and very ragged shoes. Old torn 
hat. Act III : Pink ball gown with train. Hair up. 

Moll — Aged 66. Long ragged dress and dirty apron. 
Small shawl over head. Walk with stick. White hair, 
straggling from under shawl. Act III : Dark old-fashioned 
dress and cane. Hair somewhat neater. 

Sarah — Yachting dresses for Acts I and II. White hat 
with veil. Act III: Evening gown of black and white. 
Opera cloak for last entrance. 

HoRTENSE — Dark hair. Costumes similar to Sarah's, but 
of contrasting color. 



PROPERTIES. 
Fence. 

Two natural trees. 
Clothes line with clothes on it. 
Set house and porch. 
Large iron bell mounted on pole. 
Rope for bell with noose in end. 
Two benches. 
Old chair. 
Barrel. 

Natural vines and paper flowers. 
Autumn leaves. 
Whisky bottle for Ichabod. 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

Locket on chain for Injun. 

Revolver for Injun. 

Book for Nan. 

Stick for Moll. 

Rifle for Sir Arthur. 

Lorgnette for Hortense. 

Parasol for Sarah. 

Clothes-basket for Nan. 

Wagon. 

Whip. 

Live hen for Nan. 

Old door knob for Nan. 

Long shawl for Hortense. 

Coins for Mr. Enlow. 

Ropes and old bandana for Injun. 

Knife for Injun. 

Portieres. 

Palms. 

Leather couch. 

Chandelier. 

Lighted candles. 

Christmas greens. 

Large table, fancy. 

Fireplace, with fire, fender, etc. 

Piano. 

Fancy- chairs. 

Two cigars. 

Bag for Moll. 

Decanter and glasses on table. 

Eyeglass for Sir Arthur. 

Coin for Nan. 

Chimes back of scenes. 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 



SCENE PLOT. 
Acts I and II. 

Marine Drop 




O Barrel 



Fence 



Tree 



House and Porch 

Bench, Bucket 

2 Wash Pans 

□ Old Chair 



jii|Tree \ 



Cloth 
on Line 

Bell on Pole 



Bench 



, Gate 

1^^ 





/ ^Palms 


uuur V 


Piano 1 1 A \ 


Door 

/ r--'''^^ Couch 


Palms 

Door 

ChalrD V 

1 1 Chair ^\ 

ChalrD D n \\\ 
Chair '-' U\ 
Table Fire \ 



Act hi. 



STAGE DIRECTIONS. 
R. means right of the stage; C, center; R. C, right cen- 
ter; L., left; R. D., right door; L. D., left door, etc.; 1 E., 
first entrance ; U . E., upper entrance ; R. 3 E., right entrance 
up stage, etc. ; D. F., door in flat or scene running across 
the back of the stage ; up stage, away from footlights, down 
stage, near footlights; \ G., first groove, etc. The actor is 
supposed to be facing the audience. 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 



Act I. 

Scene: The exterior of a rough lighthouse on the Caro- 
lina coast. The time is the late afternoon in the latter part 
of October. 

The back drop may be any ordinary exterior, but a 
marine drop on a rocky coast should be used if possible. 
A dilapidated old rail fence runs across the back of the 
stage about two feet in front of the rear scene. This fence 
also runsdozvn the left of the stage, from the rear to the 
front, and has a rude gate at L. about halfzvay between 
back drop and footlights. A set house with porch appears 
down R. This house is not absolutely necessary, but a 
rude porch should be simulated from scantlings painted 
dark brown. Tivo steps lead to the porch. The fence and 
porch are covered with natural vines to which are attached 
a few scarlet trump et-floivers made of tissue paper. Two 
natural trees, with autumnal foliage, are nailed to the stage, 
one at rear C. and one in the fence corner up L. Barrel 
up R. An old bench zvith a rude bucket and tzvo battered 
washpans stand near the porch. An old chair is dozvn R. 

A large bell, mounted on a pole about eight feet high, 
stands dozvn L. From this bell hangs a rope zvith a noose 
in the end large enough to admit Nan's head. This rope 
hangs down about three or four feet. The bell may be 
borrowed from a hardzvare store and should be of the 
ordinary iron, church or school variety. A rough bench 
faces the audience, under the bell. Autumn leaves cover 
the stage. A fezu flozvers, suitable to the season, appear 
along the fence, their pots hidden by leaves. If desired, 
an old well may be up R., but this is not essential. Attach 
boughs of trees to the side scenes so that they overhancf 
the stage, giving the appearance of autumn trees around 

9 



10 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

the house. A general state of dilapidation prevails. A 
clothes-line, on which are displayed several red flannel and 
other incongruous garments, runs across stage at rear, from 
tree to tree. 

Light one-quarter down at rise of curtain. When curtain 
rises bird-notes are heard back of scene. After a pause, 
Moll Buzzer enters from the house. 

Moll Buzzer. Nan! (Loud wail.) Nan! I wonder 
where on airth that gal has got to. Me here at the Hght- 
house doin' all the work and her a gaddin' out in that sail 
boat with Ned Blake. If Ichabod Buzzer was any sort of 
a man at all, he'd soon put a stop to sech carryings on. But 
he ain't worth shucks, and he never was worth shucks, and 
he never will be worth shucks, and I was a fool ever to have 
married such a low-down, pesky, no-count piece of hu- 
manity as him. Me as could 'a had my pick of all the shore 
men from Kitty Hawk to Hatteras — and then to take him! 
Buzzer! Buzzer, where are you? 

Ichabod Buzzer (in house). Here I am, my darling! 
In the house. 

Moll. Well, you march out here, or I'll march in. You 
understand ? 

Ichabod Buzzer appears on porch. 

Ichabod. Did you call me, Molly? 

Moll. Call you? I nearly yelled by head off'n my 
shoulders. (Grabs him.) 

Ichabod. Now, don't be rough, Mrs. Buzzer ; don't be 
rough. 

Moll. You hike down there to the wharf and if you get 
a sight of Nan tell her to come up here right away, er I'll 
come down there and give her the worst hidin' she's had 
fer a coon's age. Understand? 

Ichabod. But I was just going to clean the light. 

Moll (jerks him over the gate at L.). I'll clean the 
lights. (Gives him a shove.) Now be off. It's purt' near 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 11 

supper time. (Crosses to porch.) If you're gone more'n 
a quarter of an hour, I'll come down and get you. Under- 
stand ! (Goes into house, slamming door.) 

IcHABOD. Yes, my honeysuckle, I understand. That's 
right, Mrs. Buzzer, you go gaily gallyvantin' down the flow- 
ery paths of life and leave your poor lawful wedded hus- 
band to toil and moil and work by the sweat of his brow 
to earn silks and satins fer you to gaily gallyvant around 
in. It ain't right, decidedly and finally, it ain't right! 
(Takes out whisky bottle from hip-pocket.) I wonder if 
she missed the medicine bottle. (Drinks.) I was jest in 
the act of taking a little medicine from the bottle when she 
called me and I got so excited that I took the whole durn 
bottle. Well, Mrs. Moll Buzzer, wife of my bosom, here's 
yer very good health and many of 'em. (Drinks.) 

Enter Injun Jim through the gate at L. 

Injun Jim (stealthily crosses to Ichabod and hits him 
on the back just as he has the bottle to his lips. Ichabod 
chokes.) Hello, Buzzer! 

Ichabod. Shay, whatsh matter? I thought it was my 
wife. 

Injun. Don't you know me? 

Ichabod (comes close to him, peers in his face, starts 
back astonished). The devil! 

Injun. No, not quite. 

Ichabod, Well, you're his next door neighbor. Shay, 
when did you get out of jail? 

Injun. I've been out for two months now. Where's 
the old woman? 

Ichabod (tries to straighten up, teeters on his heels). 
If you are referring to that gentle antelope, Mrs. Buzzer, 
the wife of my bosom, she is preparing the evening repast 
in the lighthouse. 

Injun. I saw Nan out in a boat with a young city feller. 
Who is he? 



12 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

IcHABOD. The gentleman you refer to Is Mr. Edward 
Blake from Raleigh. He's our summer boarder. 

Injun. Are you sure he ain't a revenue man? 

IcHABOD. Of course he ain't. He's a gentleman of edu- 
cational and abiUties, just like me. 

Injun. What's he doin' out thar with my daughter? 

IcHABOD. He ain't with your daughter. As fur as I 
know, you hain't got no daughter. 

Injun. I want to have a talk with the old woman and 
settle this thing up right now. I want that locket. 

IcHABOD. What locket? 

Injun. The locket that was around Nan's neck the night 
she was stole. 

IcHABOD. I dunno nothin' 'bout no locket. 

Injun. It had her mother's picture in it and it'll be a 
proof who she really is, when I get ready to play my cards. 

IcHABOD. You'd better go in and talk to the gentle ante- 
lope. She tends to all money matters, while I — I toil and 
moil to keep her in silks and satins. 

Injun. I'll have to keep an eye on that feller, Blake. I 
don't like these city dudes nohow. (Crosses to gate and 
looks off L.) They're down there at the wharf now. 
(Shades eyes and looks off L.) 

IcHABOD. He's a perfect gentleman, he is. He's teach- 
ing Nan to read and write and figger. Pretty soon she'll 
know as much as her old grandad. But he's a gentleman, 
just like me, and I'll drink his health. (Drinks.) And Injun 
Jim's a crook out'n the penitentiary, he is, but I'll drink his 
health, too. (Drinks.) And if I've forgotten anybody, why 
I'll just drink their health, too. (Drinks.) Here's to my 
health and your health, and may your life be long and joy- 
ful. May you live to be as old as that gentle antelope of 
my bosom, Molly Buzzer. 

Enter Moll Buzzer from house. 

Moll. Here ! (Flies at him, hangs his hat over his 
eyes and grabs the bottle.) You're a pretty looking spec- 
tacle, you are. 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 13 

IcHABOD (tries to straighten up, teeters on heels). Mrs. 
Buzzer, you got the bottle, allow me to present you with 
the cork. (Gives it to her, bozvs low, nearly loses his bal- 
ance.) 

Moll. There's a swell yacht just coming around the 
point. More visitors. Maybe they'll want supper and lodg- 
ing. Hurry down to the wharf. 

IcHABOD. But, Mrs. Buzzer — 

Moll (pushing him off). Run! Fly! They'll want you 
to help 'em land. Fly, do you hear ; fly ! 

IcHABOD (straightens up). Mrs. Buzzer, I can't fly. My 
wings is too short. 

Moll (in exasperated tone). Oh! (Pushes him out of 
the gate.) 

Injun (coming dozvn R.). Well, old woman! 

]\Ioll (turning and seeing him for the first time). Injun 
J im ! 

Injun. I reckon I want a few words with you. 

Moll. Well, the fewer the better. I never did like you, 
Injun Jim, and I don't like you now. 

Injun. Now you listen to me. We'd better come to an 
understanding. 

Moll. I ain't got no time to talk to you. Got to kill 
a couple of hens for supper. Go in the house and I'll be 
back in a minute. (Exit L. through the gate.) 

Injun. Go in the house, hey? You bet I'll go in the 
house and if I once get hands on that locket my fortune is 
made. (Exit in house R.) 

Ned Blake (outside at L.). Nan, Nan! Where are you? 

Enter Ned through gate. 

Ned. She's hiding from me. Maybe she ran into the 
lighthouse. (Crosses to R. and looks in at door.) A tramp 
is rummaging through the old lady's papers. He's coming 
this way. (Hides behind tree.) 

Enter Injun Jim from R. with locket. 

Injun. T got it and now that the proof is in my hands 
I'm settled for life. 



14 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

Ned {grabs locket). Don't be too sure of that. {Orches- 
tra chord.) 

Injun. Gimme that locket. What right you got to 
steal it from me? 

Ned. What right have you to steal it from Mother 
Buzzer? 

Injun {draws revolver). You dunno who you're talking 
to. {Levels revolver.) Now you hand over that locket. 
I'm a dangerous man. 

Ned. You dare? 

Injun. Dare? I'd dare anything. Your life is in my 
hands. I can kill you and throw the body down into the 
sea. Folks 'ud call it an accident and where is the human 
being to accuse me? 

Nan runs in from L. and comes between them. 

Nan {loudly). Right here! 

Injun. Out of my way, girl ! {Pushes her aside, starts 
toward Ned.) 

Nan {jumps on his back). Oh, no you don't! (Nan 
and Ned force Injun down to ground. Ned takes re- 
volver.) 

Ned. Who is he, Nan? 

Nan. I dunno. Never seen nothin' like that around 
these diggings. 

Injun. You'll find out who I am before I'm through 
with you. {Rises.) 

Nan {pertly). . You look like old Sam Hill to me. 

Injun. I'm an Injun, I am — and an Injun never forgets 
a wrong. 

Ned {removing cartridges from revolver). There, Mr. 
Injun, I reckon your little toy pistol won't hurt anybody 
now. Allow me ! {Bows and presents revolver to Injun 
with much ceremony.) 

Injun {takes revolver with a snarl). I'll get even with 
you for this. I'll get even with both of you. {Goes to gate 
at L.) I'm an Injun, and an Injun never forgets, never 
forgets. {Exit L.) 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 15 

Nan. I ain't askeered of him. We licked the stuffin' 
out'n him, didn't we, Mr. Blake? 

Ned. I wish you'd call me Ned, Nan. 

Nan. Oh, I never would dare to call you that, Ned. 

Ned (laughs). And why not? 

Nan. 'Cause you're so high and mighty, and me — I'm 
only Lighthouse Nan. 

Ned. I don't care if you are. You're the best little pal 
a fellow ever had. You saved my life just now. 

Nan. Did I? {Pause.) Honest? 

Ned. Yes, you did — honest. And I want you to know 
how grateful I am. If you ever need a friend you can 
always call on me. 

Nan. a friend ? You're the first friend I ever had, Mr. 
Blake. 

Ned. Ned ! 

Nan. I mean Ned. Now I got to study my lesson. 
Want to hear me read? 

Ned {sits at L. under hell, she lies flat down on the stage, 
her chin supported by her two hands.) Yes, go ahead. I'll 
be your teacher. 

Nan. Before you came here to the lighthouse I never 
knew nothin'. And now I can read just as good as any- 
body. Lemme find my lesson. {Thumbs book, hunting for 
lesson.) Here it is. {Reads slowly.) The — boy — and — the 
dog ! Will — the — dog — bit — the — boy ? No — the — dog — • 
will — not — bite — the — boy. Why — will — not — the — dog — 
bite — the — boy? {Speaks.) 'Cause the boy will kick the 
stuffing out'n the dog, that's why. 

Ned. That's too easy. Turn over. (Nan rolls over, 
then peers up at him.) 

Nan. That way? 

Ned. No, turn over in the book. Turn to the last lesson. 

Nan {turns to rear of the book). Oh, this is awfully 
hard. Gee ! Just look at all them letters. Every word has 
got about 'leven thousand letters in it. I'll bet there ain't 
nobody who can read that kind of reading. 

Ned {amused). Oh, yes, you can read it if you try. 

Nan {amased). Me? Read all that great big reading? 



16 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

Ned. Certainly. 

Nan. Well, I'll try. I know the first word, anyhow. 
(Spells.) T-h-o-s-e, those. That's the beginning — Those. 
The next word is who. 

Ned. Very good. You're getting on. Those who what? 

Nan (reading slozvly). Those who have (spells) m-o-r-a-1 
(pronounces) more-ale. Those who have more ale. 

Ned. Not more ale, moral. Those who have moral — . 
Go on. 

Nan (spells). C-o-u-r-a-g-e. (Speaks.) Gee, that's a 
whopper. 

Ned. It isn't hard. (Spells.) C-o-u-r-a-g-e. Now what 
is it? Those who have moral what? 

Nan. Those who have moral c-o-u-r-a-g-e, cow-rag. 
That's it. Those who have moral cow-rag. Say, Mr. Blake, 
what kind of stuff is this, anyway? 

Ned. I'm afraid that is a little too hard for you, Nan. 
Here's a new book I bought for you this morning. It's a 
grammar. 

Nan (rising). Oh, I don't want no more books now. 
Wait till I get over as far as the moral cow-rag. 

Ned. Come here. Nan. I'll read it to you. 

Nan. Come there? 

Ned (makes a place for her on the bench). Yes, come 
over here. 

Nan (with closed lips signifying refusal). Umph-umph ! 

Ned. Come on. I won't bite you. 

Nan (takes a step toward Mm). Won't you? 

Ned. No. 

Nan (takes a long slide toward him). Honest? 

Ned. Cross my heart. 

Nan (sits on bench). All right, then. I'll set. 

Ned (holds up locket). Nan, did you ever see this 
before? 

Nan. Nope. We don't get to see much jewelry around 
the lighthouse. Where did y' get it ? 

Ned. That tramp stole it from Mother Buzzer's table. 

Nan. From her table? Well, what do you know about 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 17 

that? I never knew Mother Buzzer had any jewelry at all. 
ril bet a nickel she swiped it off'n some wreck. 

Ned. See, it opens. {O peris it.) And a lady's picture is 
inside. 

Nan (looking at the locket). Oh, hain't she jest beau- 
tiful? Why, Mr. Blake, that face looks familiar to me. 
Seems like I've seen it somewhere before. 

Ned. Where could you have seen it, Nan? 

Nan. I don't know. I hain't never been no place but 
here at the lighthouse, and I know I hain't never seen it no- 
wheres around here. I guess I must have seen it in my 
dreams. She's awful pretty, ain't she? 

Ned. Yes. It is the picture of a very beautiful woman. 

Nan. And so kind-looking. Look at her eyes. She looks 
sorter sad, don't she? 

Ned. Yes, she does. I wonder where Mother Buzzer 
got that locket. 

Nan. Jest where she gets everything else. From a wreck. 
Mother Buzzer's long on gettin' things from wrecks. What 
are you going to do with it? 

Ned. Give it back to the old lady. (They both bend 
over and look at the locket.) Nan, I believe this picture 
looks like you. 

Nan. dh, it hain't me. I hain't never been that old yet. 
It's a growed-up lady, it is. It hain't me. 

Ned. Maybe it's a picture of your mother. 

Nan. My mother? 

Ned. Yes. You don't remember your mother, do you? 

Nan. No, ]\Ir. Blake, I don't. She died when I was a 
little baby. I don't remember her at all. Only sometimes 
I dream about her. (Suddenly.) That's it. That's the face 
I always dream about. Oh, Mr. Blake, do you reckon 
she is my sure-enough mother? 

Ned. That remains to be seen. Why don't you ask Mrs. 
Buzzer? 

Nan. I'm skeerd to. Every time I asks her anything 
she gives me a wallop 'long side of the head. She don't 
like me to ask no questions. 

Enter Moll from L. She comes through the gate. 



18 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

Moll (down C). Back at last, be ye? What brung ye? 

Nan {holds up her two feet). Them. 

Moll (grabs her). I don't want none of your sass. 
(Flings Nan to R. on floor.) 

Nan. Oh, I didn't do nothin'. 

Moll (raises stick to beat Nan). I'll show ye! 

Ned (comes between them). You'll do nothing of the 
sort. 

Moll. You ! ! 

Ned. Mother Buzzer, never strike a girl when she's 
down. 

Nan.. Nope. Never strike a man when she's down. 

Moll (growls). Well, why don't she work more and eat 
less ? 

Ned. Why don't you teach her more and beat her less? 

Moll. It's laziness, that's what it is. I'll beat it out'n 
her. (Starts to strike Nan with cane.) 

Ned. No, you'll not. You let her alone. I'm not afraid 
of you. 

Nan (rises, szvings right arm around). No, I'm not 
afraid of you. We ain't afraid of her, are we, Mr. Blake? 
(Doubles up arm, showing muscle.) 

Moll. I guess nothin' can be done to a grandmother for 
beatin' her own child. 

Ned. That may be true, but you don't beat this girl 
again. 

Moll. She's my own grandarter, ain't she? 

Ned. I'm not so sure of that. 

Moll. You ain't? (Changes her tone.) Well, I loves 
little Nan, and little Nan loves me. 

Nan (sarcastically) . Oh, yes, she does. When the pigs 
begin to fly. 

Moll. She knows I wouldn't harm a hair of her little 
head. When I ain't riled up, I'm jest like reg'lar soothin' 
syrup, I am. 

Ned. I came up here from the beach a few minutes ago 
and I found a man prying around the house. 

Moll. A man? It was Injun Jim. What was he doing, 
Mr. Blake? 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 19 

Ned. He stole a locket from your table. 

Moll (alarmed). A locket! Did Injun Jim steal my 
locket ? 

Ned. He did. 

Moll. Where is he ? I'll have the law on him. I'll send 
him back to the penitentiary. My locket ! The proof that's 
goin' to make me rich in my old age. Where is he? 

Ned. He escaped, but I got the locket. 

Moll (zvheedlingly). You did? You got my locket? 
And you're going to give it back to me, ain't you? You 
don't mean harm to a poor old woman, do you? 

Ned. There's your locket, Mrs. Buzzer. 

IMoLL (takes it). Oh, thank you, sir. Thank you. 

Ned. Now, remember, you're not to mistreat Nan any 
more. 

Moll. Of course not. I'm jest like reg'lar soothing 
syrup to my little Nan. I'm such a kind old critter, I am. 

Ned. She's old enough to go away to school. 

Moll. Oh, we couldn't afford anything like that. She's 
all we got, Mr. Blake, to comfort us in our old age. 
(Changes tone.) Where's Ichabod, Nan? 

Nan. I dunno. 

Moll. There's a yacht full of city folks down at the 
wharf and he ain't nowheres around to bring 'em up here 
for supper. 

Ned. City folks? 

Moll. Yes, I seen 'em from up in the tower. Nan, 
you go down and bring 'em up here for supper. We need 
the money. (Crosses to house.) 

Nan. Remember, you ain't goin' to beat me no more. 

Moll. Beat you. Nan? Why, I'm jest like honey and 
soothing syrup, I am, jest like honey and soothing syrup. 
(Exits in house.) 

Nan. Mr. Blake, you saved me from getting a licking. 

Ned. If she ever beats you again you come and tell me. 

Nan. Yes, but you ain't going* to be here always. 
(Sadly.) You'll go away back to the city and I'll never 
see you no more, Mr. Blake. I'll never see you no more. 
(Cries.) 



20 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

Ned (comes to her). And would you care very much, 
Nan? (She cries.) Would you? (She cries.) Nan! 

Nan. I reckon I would. 

Ned. Nan, do you know what love is? 

Nan (with closed lips signifying assent). Um-umph ! 

Ned. You don't love anybody, do you. Nan? 

Nan (as before). Um-umph! 

Ned. Who is it. Nan? 

Nan. I ain't goin 'to tell. You'd think I was a little 
fool. 

Ned. Nan, is it possible that you — 

Enter Ichabod from L. He comes through gate. 

Ichabod. Mr. Blake, there's a bunch of city folks down 
at the wharf. They're asking for you and they're coming 
up here to see the gentle antelope and get some supper. 
One of 'em give me a drink, and say, Mr. Blake, I have had 
drinks and drinks, but this here drink was some drink. 
Now there's Nan. She's jest beginning to climb life's lad- 
der, she is. 

Nan. Yes, and it's full of stumbles, too, grandad. 

Ichabod (stumbles. Nan laughs). Full of stumbles. 
Nan, stop laughing at your old grandad's infirm, infirm, 
infirmities. Your ingratitude breaks me all up. It lowers 
my spirits. (Takes out a bottle.) See, my spirits is low- 
ered. (Shows bottle empty.) In fact, I ain't got no spirits 
left. (Drunkenly.) Ain't got no spirits left. Nan, come 
here. 

Nan. I ain't goin' to do it. I don't like you when 
you've been drinking, grandad. 

Ichabod. Come yere, I say. (Grabs her.) Quit yer 
kickin', ye young mule. Mr. Blake, gimme your hand ! 
Thatsh right. You're a gen'leman, and I'm a gen'leman, and 
sho is my darter and my grandarter afore her. Nan, I'm 
a going to jine you two together in the bonds of holy 
hemlock — 

Enter Moll from house. 

Moll. Ichabod Buzzer, you come in here and set the 
table. 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 21 

IcHABOD (looks at her). Ladies and gen'lemen, thatsh 
my wife. That's the gentle antelope of my bosom. I stand 
up for my wife. I want you all to know that I stand up 
for my wife. (Falls down.) 

Moll. You drunken brute, you can't stand up for 3^our- 
self ! (Takes his ear.) Here, you get up there! 

IcHABOD. Hold on, there, my gentle antelope ; hold on. 

Moll. I am a-holdin' on. 

IcHABOD. When I shay hold on, Mrs. Buzzer, I mean, 
let go. 

Moll. You get into the house and set the table. 

IcHABOD (on heels). ]\Irs. Buzzer, you've got the wrong 
pig by the ear this time. 

Moll (pulls his ear). I'll show ye. 

IcHABOD. Ouch ! Oh, would that I had never become 
the husband of any woman under the sun.- Would that 
I were single again. 

Moll. I'll single ye ! (Pulls him toward house.) Come 
along, I say. I'll make you pay for them few remarks, er 
my name hain't Moll Buzzer. (Drags him into the house.) 

Ned. I'll go down to the wharf. Nan, and see who the 
city folks are. Maybe I know them. Do you want to come 
along ? 

Nan. Nope. I dassent. Gotter w^ait table at supper. 
'Cause if I don't, I won't get nothin' to eat, and I'm so 
hungry my stomach feels as though my throat's been cut. 

Ned. I won't be long. (Exits L.) 

Nan. Ain't he just grand ! Gee, I wisht I was a fine 
lady with a good eddication. Maybe he'd take a shine to 
me then. But he'll go away and forget all about me, and 
I 'spect I'll have to be an old maid till I die, 'cause I ain't 
goin' to marry no longshoreman, if I live to be thirty. 
I'd ruther climb up in a 'simmon tree and eat 'simmons 
like a no-count possum all my days. I ain't nothin' to 
him, and he hain't nothin' to me, but I wisht things was 
different — I wisht I was a lady — I wisht I had a eddica- 
tion and a fine satin dress with a long tail, and false hair, 
and a fan — then I'd have a chance. But I ain't nothin*, 



22 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

nothin' but Lighthouse Nan. {Goes to gate and looks off 
L.) He's laffin' and talkin' with the city folks. I reckon 
they're friends of his'n and now he'll go away and forget 
all about the little gal who saved his life down by the sea. 
(Crosses to R.) I'm goin' to hide. I ain't a goin' to have 
'em poke fun at me jest 'cause I hain't got no eddication. 
(Talking and laughter heard off L.) He's walking with 
some city gal. Maybe she's his sweetheart. Look at her 
hold up her head, jest like she owned all the plum earth 
and half o' Kingdom Come. Darn her ! I'd like to give 
her a kick on the shins. (Hides hack of clothes on the 
line.) 

Enter Ned from L. escorting the Hon. Sarah Chumley- 
Choke and Mr. Enlow. 

Sarah. Ned, you are looking awfully fit. It's positively 
weird what the sea air has done for you. (Looks around.) 
Is this the lighthouse? 

Ned (down L.). Yes, this is the place. 

Mr. Enlow. You say we can get accommodations here 
for the night? 

Ned. I am sure you can. It's rough fare, Mr. Enlow, 
but it's better than being at anchor all night in your motor 
boat. 

Mr. E. (looks around, down L.). Where are Hortense 
and Arthur? 

Sarah (looks off L.). Here they come now. They say 
that lovers are proverbially tardy. Is that so, Neddy? 

Ned. I'm sure I don't know. I'm not a lover. That is,- 
not yet. 

Sarah. Not yet? I wonder what he means by that, 
Mr. Enlow. Wouldn't it be positively weird if Neddy 
would fall in love with one of the village milkmaids? I'd 
love to see Neddy milk a cow. (Laughs.) 

Mr. E. (crosses to R.). There doesn't seem to be any- 
one about. 

Ned. I think Mrs. Buzzer is getting supper. 

Sarah. Buzzer? Is it possible that there are people on 
earth named Buzzer? Weird, positively weird. 



I 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 23 

Ned (at rear C). And the old lady is just as weird as 
her name. Wait till you see her. 

Enter Hortense Enlow and Sir Arthur Choke from 
L. He carries a rifle. 

Hortense Enlow. What a horrible place. 

Sarah {at R. zcith Mr. E.). Horrible, Hortense? It's 
worse than horrible ! It's weird, positively weird. 

Sir Arthur. Surely, we're not expected to spend the 
night here? 

Mr. E. Sure. It's better than staying on deck with a 
couple of dead motors. 

Hortense (at L. C). This is just like a novel, Artie. 
Cast upon a desert island. Stranded in a lighthouse. 
(Laughs.) 

Ned. I see you've brought your rifle, Sir Arthur 

Sir Arthur. Yes, dear boy. Thought probably I might 
take a shot at a duck, doncherknow. 

Ned. Plenty of 'em around here. Geese, too. 

Sarah. Only fancy! I'd love to see a little wild goose. 
They're so poetical. 

Sir Arthur. I much prefer to hunt the larger game. 
I had quite a reputation as a tiger hunter in India. 

Hortense. How brave you must be, Arthur. 

Sir Arthur. Oh, so, so ! You know, Neddy, when one 
had hunted elephants and tigers in India, you know — that 
things like ducks and geese seem awfully tame, you know ! 
Really, Hortense, I'm not afraid of anything. (Stands 
near clothes line. Nan back of the line suddenly flirts 
the arm of a zvJiite garment in his face.) 

Nan (concealed by clothes on line). Booh! 

Sir Arthur (jumps back, much alarmed). By Jove! 
What was that? It's spirits. That garment seemed to jump 
right at me. Really, I'm quite upset. 

Ned (drazvs garments aside, disclosing Nan). You 
needn't be afraid, Sir Arthur. It's only Nan. 

All. Nan? 

Hortense (stares through lorgnette). And who, pray, 
is Nan? 



24 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

Nan. It's me. Vm Nan. Just Lighthouse Nan. 

Sarah (staring at her). Really! What a queer looking 
creature. 

Sir Arthur. Rather good looking, I say. A regular 
nymph of the sea. She is, by Jove ! 

' Ned (bringing her forward). I want to introduce you 
to my friends, Nan. 

Nan. Oh, I know 'em already by your prescriptions 
of 'em. 

Ned. This is Sir Arthur Choke. He's a speculator. 

Nan. a speckled tater? (Giggles.) Excuse my giggles, 
mister, but I ain't never seen a real live speckled tater afore. 

Sir Arthur. By Jove ! What a charming little mer- 
maid. A regular nymph of the sea. She is, really. 

Ned. And this is Miss Enlow. Miss Hortense Enlow. 

Nan. Howdy, Miss Enlow. (Hortense stares at her 
from head to foot through lorgnette.) Oh, you pore thing! 
Ain't your eyesight real good? It must be awful to have 
to wear speckle-tails at your age. You orter try Winkses' 
eye-salve, if you can't see good. It's kinder green and 
greasy but it's a heap sight better'n carryin' them speckle- 
tails 'round with you all the time. 

Ned. And this is the Honorable Sarah Chumley-Choke. 

Nan. Gee, I should think you would choke with a name 
like that. (Giggles.) 

Sarah (raises parasol in Nan^s face). Don't be imper- 
tinent, little girl. (Crosses to rear.) 

Nan. Golly, umbrelly up and not a cloud in sight. 

Ned. That's a parasol, Nan, to keep the sun oi¥. 

Nan. a pollysol ? Humph ! She's a-skeerd she'll melt 
her face, ain't she? 

Ned. And this is my dearest friend, my second father, 
Mr. Enlow. 

Mr. E. I'm glad to meet you. Miss Nan. (Offers hand.) 

Nan (wiping her own hand on dress). Are you? 

Mr. E. I surely am. Any friend of Ned's is a friend 
of mine. 

Nan (grasping his hand and shaking it violently up and 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 25 

down). Much obliged, mister. Say, you're all right, you 
are. I gotta hunch that I'm goin' to like you. 

Mr. E. Thank you. And now, Ned, don't you think 
we'd better see about some supper. 

Sir Arthur. Ah, yes. I'm deucedly hungry, by Jove ! 
A sail on the water always gives me an appetite. It does, 
really. 

Ned. Then all of you come along. I'll find Mother 
Buzzer and see if you can have rooms for the night. 

Sarah. I want a room with a bahth, Ned. I simply 
must have a room with a bahth. 

Nan (points to lighthouse). There's the room, lady. 
(Points to ocean.) And there's the ocean. It's the biggest 
bahth on earth. It sure is. 

Ned (at door). Step right this way. 

Mr. E. (escorting Sarah). We'll have to put up with 
whatever they offer. If we don't we'll spend the night in 
the motor boat. (Exit R.) 

Sarah. And that would be dreadful. Heavens, what a 
horrible place. (Exit R.) 

Sir Arthur (dozvn L., talking to Nan). I should Hke 
to stay a whole week in this delightful nook. It's so pic- 
turesque, doncherknow. And wTDuld you teach me how to 
sail a boat and how to fish, my little charmer? 

Nan. Don't you know how to sail a boat and fish, 
mister ? 

Sir Arthur. No, I'm afraid I don't. 

Nan. Gee, you're awfully iggerunt, ain't you? 

Hortense (at C). Are you coming, Arthur? (He pays 
no attention, but talks to Nan in pantomime, she laughing 
at him.) 

Ned (at R. C). His lordship seems quite taken with 
the place, doesn't he, Hortense? 

Hortense (goes to Sir Arthur). Sir Arthur, J was 
speaking to you. (He pays no attention, she pulls his 
coat). Do you know you are neglecting me shamefully. 

Sir Arthur. Oh, I beg pardon. I do really. I was just 
admiring a bit of the landscape, that's all. 'Pon my honor. 



26 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

HoRTENSE. You were admiring that little roustabout. 
(Crosses to R.) When you have quite finished ^admiring 
the landscape maybe you'll deign to come with me. (Exit 
R. loftily.) 

Sir Arthur (following her with short steps). Aw, now, 
Miss Hortense, don't be so deuced hard on a fellow. It 
isn't my fault that I have such an eye for beauty. It isn't, 
really. (At door R., turns.) Adieu, you dear, delightful 
little nymph of the lighthouse. Au revoir. 

Nan (at L., waves her hand to him). Olive oil, mister, 
olive oil. 

Sir Arthur. Over the river. (Exit R.) 

Ned (C). Nan, I didn't think you were a flirt. 

Nan. I ain't. I'm just a girl, Mr. Blake. And it's just 
as natural for a girl to have a little fun as it is for a big 
red rose to bloom in the sunshine. You ain't goin' to blame 
the big red rose for blooming, are you, Mr. Blake? 

Ned (crosses to her). Nan, little girl, you have the soul 
of a true poet. If you had an education you'd be a won- 
derful success in society. 

Nan. Would you hke me any better, Mr. Blake, if I 
had a eddication? 

Ned. Of course I would. 

Nan. Then, by heck, I'm goin' to git eddicated or bust ! 

Ned. Such expressions. Nan. I'm astonished. 

Nan. That's what Daddy Buzzer allers says. 

Ned. But you are a young lady now and he's an old 
fisherman. 

Nan. And can't I say them kind of 'spressions no more? 

Ned. Not if you ever expect to be a true lady. Nan. 

Nan. All right, Mr. Blake. I won't never say "by 
heck !" no more. I won't, by heck ! 

Ned. Nan ! 

Nan. Oh, excuse me. They jest kinder slipped out. 
(They laugh.) 

Enter Moll from L. 

Moll. Here, you! Supper's ready. Ring the bell and 
call the boys up from their nets. They'll have to wait till 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 27 

second table tonight, 'cause we got quality folks for supper 
and quality folks won't eat with common fishermen. Ring 
the bell and don't be all day. Then come in here and wait 
on table. (Exits L.) 

Nan. That's just the way ! Jest as- soon as I'm begin- 
ning to enjoy myself she's got to come along and bust up 
the whole business. (Rings bell.) 

Ned. Well, I'd better be getting in to supper. Coming, 
Nan? 

Nan. Yep. I got to wait on table and swipe what eat- 
ings I kin get. 'Cause if I don't there won't be nothin' left 
but the dishes. 

Ned (opens door for her). Allow me! 

Nan. Allow you what? (Sees door.) Gee, Mr. Blake, 
I kin open the door myself. I ain't crippled in me two 
hands. I gotta hurry er I won't get a bite to eat and if I 
don't I'll raise the roof, by heck! (Ridis out L., followed 
by Ned^ laughing.) 

Several Fishermen enter from R., group around bell 
and sing some nautical or old-fashioned song, then exeunt 
at L. The stage grozvs a little darker and the bunch lights 
in the .entrances are shaded red. 
Enter Injun Jim from L. He comes stealthily down C. 

Injun. Humph ! No one around. I reckon they're all 
eating supper. The swells is here all right. (Looks in 
house.) And they look like they'd be easy pickings. Buz- 
zer'll keep 'em all night and Injun Jim will go back to his 
old tricks. 

Moll (off L.). Nan, Nan, come yere ! 

Injun. The old woman is coming. I'll just lay low for 
a spell. I ain't got no love fer old Moll Buzzer, if she is 
my dear, old mother-in-law. (Crosses to L.) She's got too 
long a tongue in her head to suit me. I'll just lay low. 
(Exits L.) 

Enter Moll from, R., followed by Nan with basket. 

Moll. Now yere's the basket and there's the clothes. 
Git 'em in and git 'em in right away. It looks like a storm 



28 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

and I don't aim to have all my work for nothin'. Hurry up ! 

Nan (begins to put clothes in basket, taking them from 
the line). All right, I'm a hurryin'. 

Moll. Don't be all night about it. I got to git back to 
the dining room afore them fishermen eats me out'n house 
and home. Such appetites ! They're sendin' me on the 
road to the poorhouse every day I board 'em. I wisht I 
was rid of the old place forever. (Exits R.) 

Nan (runs to R. entrances and makes a ''face" after 
her) . Mean old thing ! Makes me work like a nigger field- 
hand and don't gimme nothin' to eat but bread and sor- 
ghum. I don't believe she's my grandmother at all. Grand- 
mothers don't treat girls like that. My mother wasn't old 
Moll Buzzer's child. (Passionately.) She wasn't, she wasn't, 
she wasn't! (Sees Arthur''s gun.) Gee, look at the fancy 
gun the city man left out here where it'll get all over dew 
and things. I'll wipe it oflf and take it up to his room. 
(Takes gun.) I gotta big notion to go down in the piney 
patch and see if I can scare up a Mollie Cottontail. If I do ! 
(Aims gun.) Well, I reckon I'll have fried rabbit fer 
breakfast. That's a heap sight better'n bread and sorghum. 
I'll do it. Now, Mollie Cottontail look out, kase I'm a nat- 
ural born shooter and I'm after you, I'm after you. (Skips 
out L.) 

After a slight pause enter Sarah from R. She comes 
down C. 

Sarah. The lighthouse is stifling, positively stifling, and 
the soft ocean breeze out here is so romantic. I'd love to 
live in a simple cottage down by the sea, but it must have 
a bahth, that's a positive fact, it must have a bahth. 

Enter Injun Jim from L. 

Injun. Good evening, lady. 

Sarah. It's one of the fishermen! How romantic! 
Good evening, sir. 

Injun. I'm a poor man, miss, and I'm out'n a job. 
Could you give me a little help? 

Sarah. No, I never give anything to beggars. 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 29 

Injun. I ain't no beggar, ma'am. I'm just a poor man. 
I've got a starving wife and fambly at home. I need money. 
(Grabs her wrist.) 

Sarah. How dare you ? Let me go ! 

Injun. Not jest yet. I want some money. I'm starv- 
ing^ 

Sarah (struggling with him). I'll scream! 

Enter Nan from L. 

Nan. Hold on there, Injun Jim. Throw up your hands ! 

(Levels gun.) 
Injun. Curse you, I'll — (starts toward Nan.) 
Nan. Stand right where you are. Kase if you don't this 

here thing might go off and blpw you clean into Kingdom 

Come. Stand right where you are ! 

Curtain. 



Act II. 



Same scene as Act I. A light 7i<agon stands at rear C, 
supposed to he drazvn by a horse concealed from the audi- 
ence by the lighthouse. This wagon should be worked for- 
ivard and backzvard now and then by someone concealed 
by the house, to give the audience the effect of a restless 
horse. Ichabod sits on seat of wagon as the curtain rises. 

Lights one-quarter dozvn, but strong ycllozv light from L. 

Ichabod (as the wagon hacks). Whoa, thar, January. 
Ain't you got no sense at all? Whoa, darn ye! (Cracks 
zvhip.) That there mule gets more and more like the wife 
of my bosom every day he lives. I never see such a con- 
trary critter. (Wagon, moves forward.) WFioa, there! 
Stand still, January. Mollie ! Mollie ! Come yere and hold 
January till I git him hitched. Mollie! Nan! VVhere be ye? 
(Wagon backs.) Whoa, there! (Cracks whip, the wagon 
is suddenly pulled out at R.) Whoa, there! Whoa! Gee, 
haw! (Wagon backed onto the stage.) January, I'm as- 
tonished at ye, I shore am. Whoa ! 

Moll enters from R. She goes up C. to wagon. 



30 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

Moll. Ichabod Buzzer, where you going? 

IcHABOD. I ain't goin' nowhere, yit. I've done been 
where I'm going. (Wagon pulled a little to R.) Whoa! 
Gee! Haw! Mrs. Buzzer, jis' take a hold of January's head 
and hold him till I git out and hitch. 

Moll. I don't see why you keep sech a mean, pesky, 
obstinate old mule that ain't worth his salt. Jest fer all the 
world like his master. (Exit R., hack of house.) 

Ichabod. Whoa, there, January. Stiddy, stiddy ! (Gets 
out of cart.) Here, MolHe, I'll hitch him. (Goes out at 
R.) Whoa, there, January! 

Moll enters from R. She comes down L. 

Moll. Ichabod, where's Nan? Here I am with a house 
full of city folks on my hands since last week and her gad- 
ding 'round the country goodness only knows where. 
They're goin' to leave tomorrow and I'll be downright glad 
of it. 

Ichabod enters from R. He comes down C. 

Ichabod. What say, Mrs. Buzzer? 

Moll. Ain't you got no ears? I said I'd be glad when 
this passle of city folks gits their boat fixed and goes away. 
I gotta work like a reg'lar slave for 'em. 

Ichabod. Means lots of money for us, Mrs. Buzzer. I 
ain't had sich a good time sence Heck was a pup. 

Moll. I likes their money as well as you do, but I'm 
gittin' sick and tired of waitin' on them two grown women. 
They treat me like a human slave. 

Ichabod. Well, I reckon they're goin' to leave tomorrow. 

Moll. Say, has the old man said anything to you about 
knowin' our gal, Liza? 

Ichabod. Not a word. I reckon he's done forgot all 
about Liza. That was fifteen years ago. 
, Moll. Well, I reckon I'm goin' to refresh his memory. 

Ichabod. You ain't goin' to tell him about Nan, are ye? 

Moll. I'm goin' to tell him when the time comes. She's 
his own darter and he ain't got sense enough to know it. 
And that Hortense gal with her fine airs and her bossy man- 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 31 

ners is our own grandchild, Buzzer. Our own flesh and 
blood. 

IcHABOD. I'd a heap sight ruther have little Nan for a 
grandchild. 

Moll. You ain't got no sense now and you never did 
have no sense. We'll make John Enlow pay us a pretty 
penny for the up-bringin' of his own child. And my lady 
Hortense, I reckon she'll sing a different tune when she 
finds out that she's the child of Injun Jim and my darter 
Liza. 

ICHABOD. I'm kinder skeerd how it's all goin' to come 
out. Maybe they'll send us to prison. And I'm an old man, 
]\Iollie darlin' and a pore old man. (Wagon backs.) Whoa, 
there, January ! That durn mule is gittin' more skittish 
every day. 

Moll. Why don't you put him in the barn? 

IcHABOD. I'm goin' to drive the city folkses over to 
Gibbons Rock to see the sun set. 

Moll. They'd better stay at home. 

IcHABOD. Goin' to give me two dollars for the trip. 

Moll. Two dollars, hey? Well, you see you hand it 
over to me. 

IcHABOD. Now, MoUie, I got to git me some cough med- 
icine, 'cause I got a misery in my chest. 

Moll. You're goin' to git some whisky, Ichabod Buzzer. 
But you'll hand over that money to me er I'll know the 
reason why. 

Ichabod. I was calculatin' on gittin' some dry goods fer 
you, darlin'. 

Moll. You mean wet goods fer yourself. I know you! 

Ichabod. I saw Injun Jim down at the wharf today. 
What you reckon he's hanging 'round here fer? 

Moll. Fer no good. If I had my way they'd send him 
back to the penitentiary and keep him there fer life. 

Ichabod. Do you reckon he's goin' to tell old man Enlow 
that Nan is his darter? 

Moll. He'd better not. That's wy business. I'm the 
only one who's got the proof and Injun Jim could talk his 



32 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

head off 'n his body and not git a cent, less'n he's got proofs. 
And I got the papers. And what Moll Buzzer's got, she 
keeps. 

IcHABOD. I reckon the old man 'ud pay right handsome 
for them proofs. 

Moll. You bet he will, when the time comes. But I 
ain't goin' to run no risk of bein' sent to prison. I'm a wise 
woman, Buzzer, I'm shore goin' to bide my time. 

IcHABOD. Seems right funny he's yere under the same 
roof with his own darter and he don't know it. 

Moll. He'll know it when the time comes. 

IcHABOD (as wagon backs). Whoa, there, January. 

Moll. You drive that critter 'round to the back door. 
I guess the city folks ain't too good to git in your wagon 
at the back door. 

IcHABOD (climbs in the wagon). Loosen him up, Mol- 
lie. Whoa, there, January. (Exit Moll at rear R.) Gee, 
haw ! Gee dap, January. Gee dap. ( The wagon is pulled 
off at R.) 

Squawking of a hen heard off L. Enter Nan from L. 
with straw sticking to her clothes and hair. She carries 
a hen and an old door knob. Comes down C. 

Nan. Ah, ha ! Miss Biddy Hen, you thought you'd hide 
away where nobody could find you, did you? Clean under 
the old barn, hey? Settin' agin, wasn't you? I swan, you 
ain't got no sense at all. Settin' all day on a old chiney 
door-knob. You're so skinny you kin hardly walk. ( Throws 
door-knob on stage.) Hain't you shamed of yourself ? Ain't 
you now? What you reckon you was tryin' to do? Hatch 
out a old door-handle or a bunch of marbles? (Swings 
hen by feet.) Quit your squawkin'. I'll larn you better 
manners. (Holds up hen.) You know what I'm goin' to 
do with you? Hey? I'm goin' to bapsouse you. I'm goin' 
to teach you better sense by bapsousin' you in the old rain 
barrel. (Goes to barrel.) Now, Miss Biddy Hen, you're 
goin' to git bapsoused. (Leans in barrel.) 

Enter Sir Arthur from R. 



i 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 33 

Sir Arthur. Aw, by Jove ! It's the little rustic Venus. 

Nan (her head in the barrel). See the water, Miss Biddy 
Hen. Quit yer squawkin' 'cause yer time has done come. 

Sir Arthur {goes to her). Nan, what are you going 
to do? (Takes her arm.) 

Nan. Ouch! Let go. (Looks at him.) Gee, I thought 
it was old Mammy Buzzer. 

Sir Arthur. What are you doing? 

Nan. Goin' to bapsouse this old biddy hen. 

Sir Arthur. Are you going to drown her ? 

Nan. Nope. Just goin' to make a good old Baptist 
out'n her. Name this yere girl, ]\Iiss Biddy Hen. (Dips 
hen in barrel.) One, two, three, and out goes she! Now 
will you be good, or will you go on settin' on door-knobs? 
My, ain't she mad ! Look at her, mister. Shoo, shoo, shoo ! 
''Chases hen out at L.) 

Enter Hortense from R. 

Sir Arthur (chasing hen). Shoo, shoo, shoo! (Runs 
around stage and bends lozv as if to catch the hen. He 
runs dozvn to Hortense, not seeing her as his head is 
dozvn. He is close to her.) 

Hortense. Sir Artie, have you taken leave of your 
senses ? 

Sir Arthur. By Jove ! Only think of that now. (Looks 
up at her.) 

Hortense. If you are playing tag with this young per- 
son, pray don't let me interrupt you. 

Sir Arthur. Playing tag? Oh, no. We were only bap- 
sousing the hen. 

Hortense (sits at R.). Indeed? 

Nan. Yes, indeed. Don't you 'low him to bapsouse a 
hen? 

Hortense. Are you speaking to me, my good girl? 

Nan. Sure, I am. Didn't you hear me? You must be 
deef as well as nearsighted. 

Sir Arthur. I've just been getting up a little party. 
We're all going to drive over to Gibbons Rock to see the 
sun set. 



34 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

HoRTENSE. I have a frightful headache. I couldn't stand 
the drive. It's such a bore. 

Nan. Oh, it's all right. Old mule January '11 git you 
there quicker'n greased lightning. 

HoRTENSE (rises, but leaves her shazul on seat). I think 
1*11 go to my room. 

Sir Arthur. Permit me to escort you. 

HoRTENSE (sarcastically). Oh, I couldn't think of 
troubling you. Perhaps you and this person wish to bap- 
souse some more hens. 

Sir Arthur. Now, my dear Hortense, be reasonable. 

Hortense. You ask too much. Sir Arthur. I'll be rea- 
sonable when we are back in town away from this wretched 
place. (Goes to door.) 

Sir Arthur. But, really, you know — 

Hortense. I fear I am interrupting your sport. If you 
see my father kindly tell him to come to my room. (Exits 
at R. proudly.) 

Nan (crossing to R., imitating Hortense^s walk and 
voice). I fear I am interrupting your sport. If you see 
my father kindly tell him to come to my room. Jiminy 
crickets, what a long tail our cat has got. 

Sir Arthur. Do you know, my dear, you are positively 
bewitching, you are really. 

Nan (comes to him). Do you think so? 

Sir Arthur. Indeed, I do, 'pon my honor. If you would 
only fly with me to the city what a bewitching little couple 
we should make. Just you and me. Wouldn't that be nice? 

Nan. Nope. I can't fly, 'cause my wings ain't sprouted 
yet. 

Sir Arthur. I could take you there in a yacht. Wouldn't 
you love to see the great, big, beautiful city? 

Nan. Oh, yes, I've always wanted to see the city. 

Sir Arthur. And then we could sail across the ocean 
and go to my estates in England. 

Nan. Have you got estates in England? 

Sir Arthur. Indeed I have. 

Nan. So you're an Englishman, are you? 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN • 35 

Sir Arthur. Indeed I am, and I'm proud of it. 

Nan (to audience). I allers knowed something was the 
matter with him. 

Sir Arthur. I'm over here to see your country. America 
is a beastly big place, doncherknow. 

Nan. Englishmen never kin believe how fast we grow 
in this country. They don't believe George Washington 
ever made them git out of it neither, but he did. Ned told 
me all about it. 

Sir Arthur. Yes, but England is a far greater country, 
you know. Our country has grown up ! But you have to 
get emigrants to help build up your country, and then 
{shrugging shoulders) what are they? 

Nan. That's so. They don't amount to nothin' much 
until they come here to America and inhale the fresh and 
free air of liberty. Then they become American citizens 
and they amount to a great deal. For we send 'em out west 
to build it up, and the west feeds the world. 

Sir Arthur. Feeds the world? What nonsense. Amer- 
ica doesn't feed old England, you know. 

Nan. Oh, yes we do. You bet your boots we've fed 
old England. We gave you a warm breakfast in 1776, and 
boiling dinner in 1812 ! 

Sir Arthur. But really, my dear Miss Nan — 

Nan (interrupts). I ain't your dear Miss Nan. Your 
dear ]\Iiss Hortense is in the house and I reckon you'd 
better toddle along to her. She might get lonesome, don- 
cherknow. 

Sir Arthur. By Jove ! I believe you are spoofing me, 
you know. 

Nan. Good-bye, Sir Arthur, I gotta go and give old 
mule January a feed of hay. 

Sir Arthur (at door R.). We shall meet again, my 
little rustic beauty. 

Nan. Oh, tie a tin can on that stuff. 

Sir Arthur. Farewell! (Exit R.) 

Nan. He makes me tired. He ain't the least like Mr. 



36 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

Blake. Now, he don't never make me tired. He's jes' the 
grandest man. My, I shore wisht I was a fine lady like 
Miss Hortense. But it ain't no use. Everybody makes fun 
of me. I can't walk like her and I can't talk like her. If 
I only had some nice shoes and a long-tail dress like her'n, 
maybe it 'ud be different. Oh, there's her shawl. I reckon 
she done forgot it. I'll jest see how it 'ud look on me. 
(Puts it around her.) Gee, I bet I look swell. But I'd 
rather have a tail to my dress. (Arranges shazvl like a 
train.) Oh, I kin feel a difference already. If I could 
only do it like she does. (Walks around affectedly.) Good 
evening, my dear. It's a pleasant evening this evening, 
isn't it? If it is as pleasant tomorrow evening as it is this 
evening we'll be having a right pleasant evening tomorrow 
evening. (Gets train between feet as she walks faster and 
faster. Finally she trips on train and falls C.) Oh, gee! 
I bumped my nose and busted the only shin I got. 

Enter Ned from L. He watches her amused. 

Ned (laughs). What's the matter. Nan? 

Nan (on floor). What you laughing at? Huh? (Rises.) 
Maybe you think I can't do it? (Stalks majestically across 
stage to R., turns.) Good evening, Mr. Blake. 

Ned (seriously). Good evening, Miss Buzzer. 

Nan (changes her tone, comes to him,). You kin call 
me Nan if you want to. (Takes off shawl.) Now, there's 
my tail fixin', I ain't a fine lady no more. I'm jest Light- 
house Nan. 

Ned. a sudden change from a hot house orchid back 
to the little wild rose of the mountains. 

Nan. Say, Mr. Blake, are you goin' to marry Miss 
Hortense ? 

Ned. Of course not. I'm not high and mighty enough 
for Hortense. She expects to marry Sir Arthur and be- 
come one of the nobility. 

Nan. I'd a hap sight ruther marry you. 

Ned (amused). You would? 

Nan. Yes. Now, you think I ain't got any sense, don't 
you? 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN Z1 

Ned. Not at all. I'll confess that I once was madly in- 
fatuated with Hortense, but that was before I recognized 
my true feelings. She is like a beautiful magnoHa, superb, 
glorious and radiant. And the magnolia might have been 
made the queen of all the flowers, if there had never been a 
rose. And I have found a rose, Nan, a little, nestling wild 
rose growing in the free air of the hills and the sea, fresh 
and fragrant in its delicate purity. 

Nan. Oh, gee, Mr. Blake, you talk jest like the Bible. 

Ned. Nan, you are my wild rose — 

Enter Ichabod from R. 

IcHABOD {intemipting). Whoa, there, January. Back 
up. {Wagon hacks in at rear.) 

Ned. It's Daddy Buzzer ! 

Ichabod. Air you folks all ready? It's about time to- 
drive over to the Rock. Old January is ready and old Janu- 
ary as a rule don't like to wait. {Wagon moves forzvard.) 
Whoa, there, durn ye. Whoa ! 

Ned. I'll call the folks. {Goes to door and exits R.) 

Nan. Daddy Buzzer, you had to come drivin' in with 
January jest when Ned was finding his wild rose. 

Ichabod. Wall, did he find it? 

Nan. I reckon he did. But she didn't git a chance to 
give him no encouragement. 

Enter Ned from R., followed by Sir Arthur, Mr. En- 
low, Hortense, Sarah and Moll. 

Ichabod. Come on, now. Pile in. Whoa, there, January. 

Mr. E. We're going to have supper over by the Rock. 

Nan. Then I reckon I'd better be counted in. If there's 
eats I don't wanter miss nothin'. 

Hortense. Disgusting. 

Sir Arthur. Miss Nan. Oh, I say. Miss Nan! 

Nan. Go ahead and say it. 

Sir Arthur. Suppose you and I should walk over to 
the Rock. 

Nan. That's a good idea. Old January is going to have 
a load as it is. 



38 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

Moll. Ichabod Buzzer, you git down off'ii that wagon 
and walk. I'll do the driving. 

Ichabod. But, my darling, I got a misery in my back 
and the rheumatiz in both feet. 

Moll. You'll have a misery in your head if you don't 
do as I say. {He gets down.) 

Nan. Don't you want to walk with us, Mr. Blake? 

Ned. I'd be delighted. 

Nan. Then come on. I'll race the both of you to that 
old Cottonwood tree. (Points R.) Are you game? Come 
on! One, two, three, go! (Runs oiit at R.) 

Moll (in wagon). Whoa, there, January. 

Ichabod. I hope old January kicks the life out'n the 
wagon. 

Mr. E. (to HoRTENSE, down R.). Come, daughter. 

HoRTENSE. I've decided not to go. I don't care to asso- 
ciate with these people. 

Ichabod. Well, I'll be durned. These people ! Humph ! 
(Stalks out at R.) 

Moll (as zcagon starts out R.). Whoa, there, January. 
Back up. Gee ! Haw ! 

Sarah. Isn't it weird? 

Mr. E. (helping Sarah in wagon). There, now./ Up 
you go. I think I'll walk. 

Moll. Is that all the load I'm goin' to git? 

Mr. E. Yes, that's all. Drive on. 

Moll. Well, it'll cost ye two dollars jist the same. Gid 
ap, January. (Wagon does not move.) Gid ap, I say. 
(Cracks whip.) That 'ere old mule is as obstinate as a 
man. Gid ap ! (Clucks at horse.) I'll show ye ! (Cracks 
zvhip at horse, wagon suddenly pulled off at R.) 

Mr. E. You'd better reconsider, daughter. 

Hortense. I have a headache. Please leave me alone. 

Mr. E.^ But you better not stay here. You know what 
an experience Sarah had with a tramp the first night we 
came. 

Hortense. I'm not Sarah and I'm not afraid. He hasn't 
been seen around the lighthouse since. 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 39 

Mr. E. (at R.). Well, I don't like to leave you alone. 

HoRTENSE. Don't worry about me. If anyone comes 
I'll scream and the fishermen will hear me. You'd better 
hurry along. 

Mr. E. Good-bye. (Exit R.) 

HoRTENSE (at R.). Good-bye. (Comes doivn R. C.) 
I'll be glad when w^e get away from this horrible spot. I 
hate it and I hate to mingle with these common fishing 
people. Thank heavens, I was born in a different sphere 
of life. If I had to live in a hole like this it would be the 
death of me. 

Enter Injun Jim from L. 

Injun (at L. C). Excuse me, lady, kin I have a few 
words with you? 

Hortense. I have nothing for you, my good man. 

Injun. Jest as proud as the other one, hey. Well, I 
reckon I'll take down your pride a peg, my lady. 

Hortense. Out of my way. Let me pass. (Starts to 
gate L.) 

Injun (intercepting her). Hold on thar. I got some- 
thin' to say to you and you ain't goin' to pass until I say it. 

Hortense. I told you I had nothing for you. I never 
give to beggars. 

Injun. Beggars? I ain't no beggar. I'm an honest man, 
I am. 

HoRTESE (angrily). I don't care whether you are or not. 
Let me pass or I'll scream for help. 

Injun. Oh, no, you won't. Nobody could hear you if 
you did. 

Hortense (alarmed). I have no money with me and 
no jewels. 

(The stage grows a little darker.) 

Injun. I ain't after no .money ner jewels, lady. At 
least not now. And I don't mean you no harm. All I 
want is to have you listen to a little story I want to tell you. 

Hortense. I don't care to hear your story. My father — 

Injun. Your what? 



40 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

HoRTENSE. I was about to say that my father would 
attend to your wants. Now let me pass. 

Injun. Who d' y' mean by father? Do you mean John 
Enlow ? 

HoRTENSE. Yes, John Enlow is my father. 

Injun. Your father? (Laughs.) John Enlow, your 
father ? Ha, ha, ha ! You might think he is, my lady, but 
he ain't. 

Hortense (shrinking .away) . What do you mean? 

Injun (boldly). Jest what I say. John Enlow ain't no 
more your father than he is my father. 

Hortense (looks at him a moment, then laughs scorn- 
fully). You are insane. 

Injun. Insane, am I? You listen a little while to my 
story and then say I'm insane if you dare. 

Hortense. It's blackmail. You are trying to frighten 
me in order to get money. I'll not listen to you. If you 
have anything to say, speak to my father. 

Injun. Speak to him, hey? Oh, no, I reckon it's you 
I have to speak to. (Comes to her at R., changes tone,, 
speaking roughly.) Now see here. You set down and 
listen to what I've got to say. Hear me ! Set down ! (She 
complies weakly.) 

Hortense. Oh, you shall suffer for this, you shall suffer 
for this. You coward, to attack a helpless woman. 

Injun. I ain't goin' to harm you, I tell you. I ain't 
even going to touch you. It's a matter of business with 
me. I got some information and it's for sale, and you are 
going to buy it. That's all. Now do you understand ? 

Hortense. Go on. Say what you have to say and leave 
me. 

Injun.^ a pretty little story it is, too. It goes back fif^ 
teen er sixteen years. 

Hortense. Sixteen years? 

Injun. Yes. Jest about that long ago I was a fisher- 
man on the Mary Enlow, one of John Enlow's boats. 

Hortense. Your past life is nothing to me. 

Injun. Oh, hain't it? Well, I reckon it is. John Enlow 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 41 

and his wife came down her 'long about that time to inspect 
the fishing fleet. And their Httle gal was with them. She 
wasn't much more'n a baby then. About two or three years 
old, I reckon. Maybe less. Yes, come to think of it, she 
was jist beginnin' to toddle. 

HoRTENSE. I think I know what you are going to say. 
I have heard the story many times from my father. You 
refer to the time I was abducted. 

Injun. There was some bad men in that fishing fleet, 
some desperate bad men. Some of 'em had had prison 
records and they didn't care who knowed it. They was a 
bad lot and desperate. They'd a done anything fer money. 

HoRTENSE. I know it. I was stolen by some of those 
men. 

Injun. John Enlow's little gal was stolen — that's more 
like it. 

HoRTENSE (rises). What do you mean? I am the daugh- 
ter of John Enlow. 

Injun (close to her). Oh, no you hain't. John Enlow's 
darter was stole sixteen years ago, and she hain't never yet 
been found. 

HoRTENSE (passionately). It's a lie. 

Injun. It's the truth. 

HoRTENSE. You are trying to blackmail me. You cow- 
ard. 

Injun. I hain't tryin' nothin'. Two men stole that little 
baby, hoping to hold her fer a big reward ; but John Enlow 
put the bulls after 'em, and they got cold feet. They was 
afraid ta claim the reward. 

HoRTENSE. I fail to see how this romance can interest 
me. It is true that I was kidnapped when I was a child, 
but after a few weeks I was restored to my father's house. 

Injun. Wait a minute and you'll see how this little ro- 
mance interests you, my lady. One of the men who stole 
the kid was a married man himself. He was married to 
the daughter of the old lighthouse keeper there in that 
house. (Points to house.) His wife had a little baby just 
about the same age as John Enlow's child. Well, that man 



42 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

was nabbed by the bulls and sent up fer twelve years fer 
smuggling. His wife was left alone here at the lighthouse. 
Alone, with two babies on her hands. 

HoRTENSE (alarmed). Two babies? 

Injun. Yes, ma'am, two of 'em, and jest as like as two 
peas in a pod. She didn't know what to do. She was poor 
and couldn't keep both of the children. 

HoRTENSE. So she gave me back to my father. 

Injun. Wait a minute. It's true she took a baby back 
to John Enlow. But it wasn't his own baby. Not much. 
She waren't goin' to let her baby grow up into a lighthouse 
brat, so she give her own baby to John Enlow to be brung 
up rich and she kep' the stolen baby fer .herself. 

HoRTENSE (hoarsely). It's a lie. A lie, I tell you. I am 
John Enlow's daughter. You're telling me a lie, a low, 
blackmailing lie. 

• Injun. I'm telling you the truth. I kin prove every 
word I've said. 

HoRTENSE (close to him, facing him). Now, you listen 
to me. Do you think you can frighten me with such a 
trumped-up story as this ? Do you think Em a simple, inno- 
cent girl afraid of her own shadow? I'm a woman, a woman 
of the world. I defy you. Suppose what you say is true, 
who would believe you ? The world would call you a black- 
mailer and laugh at you, even as I laugh at you. You are 
beneath contempt. You say the babies were changed years 
ago. Who would take your word for it? Where are your 
proofs? 

Injun (sneers). My proofs? I reckon my proofs ain't 
far off. 

HoRTENSE. Where are they ? Produce them. Your story 
is infamous. I tell you it is a scheme to extort money from 
me. It's blackmail. But I won't be blackmailed. I defy 
you! (Glares at him.) 

Injun. You lie. You don't defy me. For down in your 
heart you know I speak the truth. You fear me. (Grasps 
her wrist.) Do you hear, you fear me. If I but say the 
word you'll lose everything. Your money, your social posi- 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 43 

tion, everything, and come here to Hve as the granddaughter 
of old Mammy Buzzer. 

HoRTENSE {struggling to he free). Who are you? How 
have you learned this wretched story? 

Injun. Who am I? How have I larned the story, you 
ask? I larned it because I'm the man who helped steal John 
Enlow's baby. I'm the husband of Liza Buzzer, the woman 
who gave up her own baby to John Enlow. I'm your father. 

HoRTENSE {pauses, looks at him as if stunned, staggers 
as if faint, crosses to R. and siiiks in chair sobbing). It 
isn't true ; it isn't true. 

Injun {bends over Jier and hisses in her ear). It is true, 
as true as gospel. There, there ; don't take on. I ain't goin' 
to hurt y' none. I'm goin' to help you. W^hat good 'ud it 
do me to tell John Enlow the truth? He wouldn't pay me 
no more than you kin pay me. I'm proud of y', my gal, 
proud of y'. 

HoRTENSE {sobbing) . Leave me alone, leave me alone. 
Alone in my shame and degradation. Go away — don't touch 
me. {Hysterically.) Don't come near me, or I shall kill 
myself. 

Injun. Now don't git excited, gal ; don't git excited. You 
and me is going to work together in this game. I ain't got 
no love fer John Enlow ner yet for that Lighthouse brat, 
his darter. Listen to me. I kin get the proofs and give 
'em to you and you kin destroy them. Then there ain't 
no one on earth will ever know the truth. 

HoRTENSE {joyfully grasps his arm). And you will? 
You'll do this for me? You won't claim me and take away 
from me everything that's worth living for? 

Injun. I'll be your pard. We'll work together. But 
I've got to have money. 

HoRTENSE. You shall have money. You shall have 
everything I possess. Only get me the proofs. Give them 
to me in my hands. Let me burn them and scatter the 
ashes to the winds. 

Injun. You shall have them. Pay me one thousand 
dollars and the proof will be in your hands tonight. 

Hortense. I'll do it. 



44 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

Injun. I'll get the papers and the locket from old Mother 
Buzzer. 

HoRTENSE. Does she know? Tell me. Does that hor- 
rible old woman know this story? 

Injun. She knows. But she won't blab. If she does 
I'll — (makes gesture as if strangling some one). 

HoRTENSE. We are leaving this place tomorrow. What- 
ever is done must be done tonight. 

Injun. It shall be done tonight. Meet me at the old mill 
at midnight. 

HORTENSE. But — 

Injun. Are you afraid? 

HoRTENSE. I'll see you in the morning. Come to the 
house and pose as a beggar. Ask for me. I'll settle every- 
thing with you then. But I must have the proofs. 

Mr. E. (outside rear R.). Hortense! Hortense! 

HoRTENSE. Some one is coming. Quick, go ! You must 
not be seen here. 

Injun (crosses to L.). I'll go. 

Hortense. Remember I must have the proofs tomorrow. 

Injun. I'll do the work tonight. 

Mr. E. (outside). Hortense, where are you? 

Hortense (goes up C. and calls off R.). Here I am, 
father. 

Injun (at L.). Tonight! (Exits L.) 

Hortense (comes down R., sinks in chair and buries 
face in hands, sobs) . His daughter ! His ! Oh, the disgrace, 
the degradation ! 

Enter Mr. Enlow from rear R. 

Mr. E. Hortense ! 

Hortense (looks tip). Yes, father. 

Mr. E. I was afraid something had happened to you. 
(Comes to her.) You have been crying. What is it? 

Hortense (nervously). Nothing. Only a headache. 
That's all, a headache. 

Mr. E. You'd better go to your room. When Mrs. Buz- 
zer returns I'll have her bring you up a cup of tea. 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 45 

HoRTENSE (rises). Yes, I'll go. (Comes to him.) Father, 
have you ever seen this Mrs. Buzzer before? 

Mr. E. Yes, I think I have. Many years ago. This is 
the very place where you were stolen when a baby. 

HoRTENSE. And it was Mrs. Buzzer who brought me 
back to you? 

Mr. E. No, it was a younger woman. Yes, come to 
think of it, I believe it was a daughter of Mrs. Buzzer who 
brought you back. I only saw her for a few moments. My 
wife was ill and my lawyer paid the young woman the re- 
ward. 

Hortense. What happened to her then? 

Mr. *E. She went away. I believe she died a few years 
later. 

Hortense. And this is the house where I was kept a 
prisoner when I was a baby? 

Mr. E. Yes, this is the place. I hadn't thought of it 
before, but now I am sure of it. 

Hortense. Then it's true! (Wrings Jiands.) Oh, the 
disgrace, the disgrace! (Exits R. in house.) 

Mr. E. She's overwrought. The sail this afternoon was 
too much for her. 

ICHABOD (out at R. rear). Gid ap, there, January. H'ist 
yourself. Gee, there, January, gee ! Now back up ! Whoa ! 

Enter Sir Arthur^ Nan and Ned from rear R. 

Nan (coming doztm L.). That was the most splendifer- 
ous time I ever had in my whole life. 

Ned (down C). Nan, you ought to go away to school. 
A year or two at a good school would make you the equal 
of any lady in the land. 

Sir Arthur (doivn L. to Mr. E.). And where is INIiss 
Hortense, Mr. Enlow? 

Mr. E. She had a headache and has gone to her room. 

Sir Arthur. Aw, really ! Now that's too bad, doncher- 
know ! (Talks to him.) 

IcHABOD (outside). Back up thar, January! Back, gol 
durn ye, back ! 



46 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

Wagon is backed in, containing Moll, Sarah and 

ICHABOD. 

Moll {coming down C). Well, city folks can stay up 
late if they want to, but I'm going to bed. Buzzer ! 

IcHABOD {coming to her). Yes, my gentle antelope, 
what is it? 

Moll. You see that the house is locked up, and if he 
gives you that two dollars remember I want it in the 
morning. 

IcHABOD. But I gotta git some medicine — 

Moll. I know what kinder medicine you wanter git, and 
it don't go. {Goes to door R.) Remember, every cent of 
that two dollars in the morning. {Exits R.) , 

IcHABOD. That's jist the way. Gotta give her every 
cent to keep her rollin' in silks and satins while her poor 
husband ain't even got a good pair of suspenders. Got to use 
a nail. By golly, I wisht I'd never set eyes on that woman. 

Sarah {coming dozvn to R.). Arthur, it's getting late 
and this night air is bad for your system. You'd better 
retire like a good boy. 

Sir Arthur {yazvns). I believe I had. I'm getting 
sleepy, too. Well, I think I'll put on me little nightcap 
and go to the drowsy. Ta-ta ! {Exits R.) 

Sarah. The poor dear. He isn't used to roughing it. 
He's such a gentle flower. Good-night, all. {Exits R.) 

Blue ligJits from L. 

IcHABOD {goes to Mr. E.). Jedge, if you got that two 
dollars handy — 

Mr. E. Certainly, Mr. Buzzer. {Gives it to him.) That 
trip and supper w^ere worth the money. 

IcHABOD. I reckon I'll go down to the tavern. I got to 
see a friend of mine. 

Nan {comes to him). Now, grandad, don't go down 
there tonight. Save your money. 

IcHABOD. And let the gentle antelope take it all away 
from me in the morning? Not much. 

Nan. But you know what she'll do if you go and get 
soused. 




LIGHTHOUSE NAN 47 

IcHABOD. Well, I reckon she won't do nothin' till tomor- 
rer anyhow. And I'm a goin' to have a good time tonight 
and not worry about the greeting the gentle antelope'll give 
me in the morning. Nan, you stay up and let me in. She 
might take it into her gentle head to lock me out'n house 
and home and I'm gittin' too old to sleep with January. 
(Goes to L.) Evening, gentlemen. Nan, wait up fer your 
old grandad. {Sings.) "Fer I won't be home till morning, 
I won't be home till morning, I won't be home till morning, 
till daylight does appear." {Exits L.) 

Mr. E. I think I'll sit here awhile in the moonlight. 
{Sits.) There's no place like old Carolina down by the sea. 

Ned. Aren't you going in, Mr. Enlow? 

Mr. E. Not just yet. 

Ned. But the night air might be bad for you. 

Nan. Yes, indeed, the night air is awful bad fer some 
folks. 

j\Ir. E. Do you want me to go? 

Ned. Why, no ; certainly not. 

Nan. Of course not. ^^ hatever put sich a idea in your 
head ? 

]\Ir. E. I'd like to have a few words with you, little one. 

Nan. W^ith me? 

Mr. E. Yes, with you. 

Ned.- That let's me out. \\>11, I guess I'll turn in. See 
you in the morning, Nan. Good-night, i\Ir. Enlow. {Exits 
in house R.) 

Nan: Oh, Daddy Buzzer's gone and left old January 
hitched right out thar. W^ait a minute, ]\Ir. Enlow, I gotta 
put January to bed. {Goes out at rear R. and speaks off 
stage.) Whoa, there, Januarv ! Gid ap ! {JVagon is draivn 
off at R.) 

Mr. E. a queer little girl, but she has a heart of gold. 
Too bad that she has to waste her young life slaving for 
old Mother Buzzer. I feel strangely drawn to her. I'd 
like to send her away to school. I'd like to give her a 
chance to make something out of her life. By George, I'll 
do it. Five or six hundred a year means nothing to me 
and it would mean all the world to that poor little waif. 



48 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

Enter Nan from rear R. 

Nan. I done put January to bed and he's snoring like a 
steam engine. 

Mr. E. Nan, come here. I want to talk to you. 

Nan (slides toward him). Go ahead. What you want 
to talk about? 

Mr. E. This wild life here, child. Do you like it? 

Nan (with closed lips, meaning ''yes''). Um-umph. I 
ain't never known no other. The only nurse I ever had 
was the sea and I go to bed every night listening to the 
song of the waves on the coast. 

Mr. E. It is a beautiful spot. I love to watch the waves 
in the moonlight. 

Nan. Well, go as fur as you hke. We don't charge 
nothin' extry fer the view. 

Mr. E. You're a strange child. 

Nan. I ain't no child. I'm a young lady. 

Mr. E. You are a child of nature, Nan. But you're not 
like the country girls I see hereabouts. 

Nan. Well, I should say not. That's 'cause I was eddi- 
cated in the city. 

Mr. E. Educated in the city? 

Nan. Yep. Spent three weeks in a orphunt asylum. 

Mr. E. Why, I supposed you were the granddaughter of 
Cap'n Buzzer? 

Nan. I dunno whether I am er not. Mammy Buzzer 
won't tell me nothin' 'bout myself and Daddy Buzzer is a 
skeerd to. I lived yere when I was a baby and when I was 
a little gal; then when I got bigger they sent me off to 
the orphunt asylum to get eddicated. 

Mr. What is your name? 

Nan. Nan. 

Mr. E. I know. But Nan what? 

Nan. Jes' Nan. Nan nothin'. Lighthouse Nan. 

Mr. But what were the names of your mother and 
father ? 

Nan. Jes' nothin' too. My mother died when I was a 
little baby. I don't reckon I ever had a father. 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 49 

Mr. E. But you owe it to yourself, to make the most of 
your limited opportunities. You work hard, it is true, but 
you should try and get an education. Many a poor country 
girl has made a good record with her intelligence and in- 
tegrity. 

Nan. Gee, you use such big words, I reckon your jaw 
hurts. If you're goin' to preach a sermon, go ahead. I'll set 
up yere in the gallery. (Jumps up on bench and sits on the 
back.) Now, go ahead, brother. 

Mr. E. You say you were educated in an orphan asylum? 

Nan. Yep. I staid there three weeks. They like to 
starved the life out'n me and they beat me besides. So one 
dark night I shinnied out'n the winder and walked twenty- 
three miles back to the old lighthouse, and I ain't been eddi- 
cated since. 

Mr. E. Now, see here. Nan, I want you to make me a 
promise. 

Nan. No asylum? 

Mr. E. No, 

Nan. No poor-house? 

Mr. E. No. 

Nan. No hired girl? 

Mr. E. No. 

Nan. Then shoot ahead and I'll make it. 

Mr. E. If I send you away to school will you promise 
to be a good girl and study hard and make me proud of 
you? 

Nan. Will I? Will If Honest, Mr. Enlow, if you'd do 
that I'd work fer you till my dying day. I'd serve you like 
a slave on my bended knees. There ain't nothin' honest 
I wouldn't do fer you, if you'd only give me a chance. 
(Cries.) I ain't never had no chance. Mammy Buzzer 
beats me and makes me work like a nigger slave. I never 
go nowhars and I never sees nobody. I never git a chance. 
The other girls go to school and have good shoes and clothes 
and hats and I hain't got nothin'. I ain't got nothin'. I'm 
only a roustabout — only Lighthouse Nan. (Cries.) 

Mr. E. (goes to her). There, there. Nan. There's no 



50 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

cloud too dark to have a silver lining. Better times are 
coming for you. I'll help you. I'll be your friend. 

Nan. You will? Be my friend? You, with all your 
money and high-toned style — you'll be my friend? 

Mr. E. I will. I'll send you off for a couple of years 
to a boarding school. I'll pay all your expenses — 

Nan. I don't want you to do that. I don't want your 
money, Mr. Enlow. I'm poor and I don't amount to shucks, 
but I never begged a cent from no one, and I never stole a 
cent from no one, and I never got a cent from no one that 
I didn't pay it back in good hard work. 

Mr. E. I honor your sentiments. Nan. I'll tell you 
what I'll do. I'll lend you the money to get an education. 
And then, when you are a rich, cultured lady you can pay 
it back to me. Is it a bargain? {Extends hand.) 

Nan. Yes, Mr. Enlow, it's a bargain. {Shakes his 
hand.) 

Mr. E. It's an old man's whim, perhaps, but I can afford 
whims. 

Nan. What is a whim, Mr. Enlow? 

Mr. E. It's a fancy generally, but in this case it's a 
decision. 

Nan. Gee, you talk jest like a dictionary, I never heerd 
no sich words before. 

Mr. E. I'm going to give you a chance and I will suc- 
ceed if my money and your good conduct will avail. I'm 
going to be your friend. I'm going to give you a chance. 

Nan {shaking his hand). Thank you, Mr. Enlow, thank 
you. 

Mr. E. Tomorrow you'll leave with us for the city. My 
daughter will attend to your wardrobe and in a week you 
will be off to boarding school. 

Nan {jumping up and dozvn in delight). Oh, goody, 
goody, goody ! I'm going to be a lady, I'm going to be a 
lady. {Stops suddenly.) Oh, gosh! It ain't no go, mister. 
It can't be did. 

Mr. E. Why, what's the matter? 

Nan. Mammy Buzzer, she's the matter. She won't 
never let me go away with you-all to the city. 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 51 

Mr. E. I think she will. Mrs. Buzzer can be persuaded 
with a little money. 

Nan. Air ye goin' to pay her? 

Mr. E. Yes, I think I'll give her a little present and 
then she will offer no objections to our plan. 

Nan. Say, you certainly know how to git around the 
women, don't you? 

Mr. E. Then it's all settled. You will leave with us 
tomorrow. 

Nan, Yes, and I want you to know how much I thank 
you, Mr. Enlow. Gee, I can't tell you how much. 

Mr. E. You'll show your appreciation by studying hard 
and by being a good, obedient girl. (Goes to house at R.) 
But I must be getting in. You'd better go to bed, Nan, and 
get a good night's rest. You will have to be up bright and 
early in the morning. 

Nan. I can't go to bed now, Mr. Enlow. I gotta wait 
up and let grandad in. If I ain't here when he comes home 
he'll have to spend the night out there with January, He 
won't be able to find the keyhole. 

Mr. E. You're not afraid, are you? 

Nan (laughs). Who? Me? Say, I ain't afraid of any- 
thing that walks. 

Mr. E, Good-night, Nan. 

Nan. Good-night, Mr. Enlow, and I shore am much 
obliged to you fer all your kindness to a little no-'count 
roustabout like me. 

Mr. E. Good-night. (Exits R. in house.) 

Nan (skipping around). Oh, I'm goin' off to boarding 
school and larn how to be a fine lady and eat with a fork. 
Goin* to git me a satin dress with a train a mile long and 
goin' to larn how to talk French and Spanish and be 
a reg'lar swell. (Sees her shadozv.) Oh, howdy. Miss 
Shadow, howdy. What do you think of me, hey? I'm goin' 
to be a fine lady and go to the city tomorrow. Pretty 
fine, ain't it? (Nods head.) You nodded your head. Come 
on. Miss Shadow, and dance with me. (Music as Nan 
dances to her shadow. Her shoe comes untied.) Gee, wait 
a minute till I tie my shooie-shoe. Now come on, Miss 



52 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

Shadow, and I'll show you how to dance. (Stops suddenly.) 
I heerd something. (Goes to gate and looks off L.) Thar's 
someone comin' down the road. They're a sneakin' along 
in the shadows of the trees. It ain't grandad, 'cause he 
walks too straight. Gee, I'm skeerd. I reckon I'd better 
get under the bed in my room. (Starts to house.) 

Injun appears at L. 

Injun. Hold on thar! 

Nan. What you want? 

Injun (comes to C). Come yere. 

Nan. It's the Injun. 

Injun. Come yere, er it'll be the worse fer you. 

Nan (comes to him'at C). I ain't skeerd of you, Injun 
Jim. Now, what you want here? 

Injun (grasps her wrist). You lay low and don't say 
a word. I'll tell y' what I want. 

Nan. I thought you was my grandad. 

Injun. I reckon you know who I am. 

Nan. I don't know no good of you. I'm goin' to bed. 

Injun (pulls her hack roughly). You're a goin' to stay 
right yere. Lay low and don't say a word. Look yere, gal, 
you ain't never had no money, have you? 

Nan. Yep. I had eighteen cents once. But Mother 
Buzzer took it away from me. 

Injun. How'd you like to have fifty dollars ? 

Nan. I'd like it. Couldn't you make it five hundred? 

Injun. If you lay low and don't say a word, I'll give 
you fifty dollars tomorrer morning. You kin buy a red 
silk dress and a hat, a yaller hat and some new shoes. Why, 
you kin be a reg'lar lady with fifty dollars. 

Nan. Are you goin' to give it to me? 

Injun. I shore am. 

Nan. Hand it over. I'll take it tonight. I might miss 
you in the morning. 

Injun. You won't miss me. Now I'm goin' in that house. 

Nan. You're goin' to rob Mr. Enlow. You shan't do it. 
He's been good to me. You shan't do it. 

Injun (forces her into the seat under the hell). Set 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 53 

down. Lay low and don't say a word. {Back of her. 
Draws knife.) You see this knife? 

Nan. I ain't blind. 

Injun. Well, you'll feel it across your throat if you ain't 
careful. I'm a dangerous man. Now make your choice, 
my gal. Which is it to be, this yere knife er the fifty dol- 
lars. (Chokes her.) 

Nan. Don't choke me. I'll take the fifty dollars. 

Injun. That shows you got some sense. (Crosses to 
door R.) Lemme git the lay of the land. (Nan hides un- 
der bench.) Where's old Mother Buzzer's room. (Turns.) 
Why, the little wild-cat, where is she? (Sees her.) Come 
out. (Drags her out by hair.) I see I can't trust you. 
(Forces her to bench.) I'll jest make sure of you, my gal. 
(Ties her to bench and ties her hands behind her, she utter- 
ing ejaculations.) I guess I'll stop up your mouth so's you 
can't scream. (Produces bandana and gags her, tying it 
behind post. The first time it slips under her chin, she 
grins, he puts it over her mouth, then goes in front of her 
and flashes knife.) Look a yere, if I find you've moved a 
inch when I come back, I'll slit your wizzen. See? (She 
nods. He starts to house.) Lay low and don't say a word. 
(Exit in house R.) 

Nan (tries to get loose, sees bell-rope zvith noose hang- 
ing down, puts head in loop and rings the bell.) 

Enter Ned from R. and cuts her loose. They take C. 
Enter Injun from house, running backward. Ned meets 
him at L. C. and they struggle. Enter Moll, Sarah, Sir 
Arthur and Mr. Enlow from house with lights. Lights 
on full. Sir Arthur has gun. Nan grabs it, runs L. C. 
and points it at Injun. 

Nan. Hands up, Injun Jim. (He complies.) Git him, 
Mr. Enlow. (Men seize Injun.) Now, Injun Jim, jest 
lay low and don't say a word ! 

Quick Curtain. 

Second Picture : Sir Arthur and Mr. Enlow drag 
Injun off at L. Ned embraces Nan. Sarah faints in 
chair at R. All to quick music. 



54 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

Act hi. 

Scene: Library in John Enlow^s city house. En- 
trances R., L. and C. with dark draperies. Fireplace down 
L. with logs and concealed red electric light. Fender, 
tongs, etc. Large easy chair in front of the fireplace, facing 
the fire. Elaborate table L. C. with dark chairs around it. 
Leather couch down R. Other library furniture. Palms 
in the corners. The stage is decorated for Christmas with 
festoons of green and red paper bells, holly, etc. Lighted 
chandelier. Lighted candles on mantel and piano. 

Ned discovered at rise seated on couch, smoking. Mr. E. 
seated R. C.,- smoking. Both in evening dress. 

Ned. Mr. Enlow, that was a wonderful Christmas din- 
ner. My only regret is that little Nan won't be here until 
tomorrow. 

Mr. E. I suppose she has grown so in two years that 
ril hardly know her. 

Ned. The boarding-school has done wonders for her. 
She's a perfect lady, but she's still the same true-hearted 
little Nan we used to know at the lighthouse. 

Mr. E. I can hardly wait to see the results of my experi- 
ment. She's to be here at ten tomorrow morning. 

Ned. When I saw her last, at the Hallowe'en dance at 
the school, she wanted me to thank you for your kindness 
to her. She realizes that she owes everything to you and 
her heart is full of gratitude. 

Mr. E. I wish Hortense were more like her. 

Ned. Mr. Enlow, I've been wanting to speak to you 
about Hortense. 

Mr. E. Yes, Ned, what about her? 

Ned. I cannot understand the strange interest she takes 
in that prisoner Injun Jim. She visited him again at the 
penitentiary last month and has done everything in her 
power to have him pardoned by the governor. 

Mr. E. I don't understand it, Ned. She is usually so 
cold and unfeeling with persons of that class. 

Ned. I wonder if it is possible that this man has some 
hold on Hortense? 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 55 

Mr. E. Certainly not. What put such an idea in your 
head? 

Ned. I hardly know, but her sudden interest in him, her 
efforts in his behalf, the luxuries she has furnished him — 
all of these things make me think that there is some un- 
known connection between them. 

Mr. E. One would naturally suppose that she would 
hate him, for he is the man who abducted her eighteen years 
ago. 

Ned. And it was his wife who restored her to you, 
wasn't it? 

Mr. E. Yes. Liza Buzzer. 

Ned. This Liza Buzzer had a child of her own who was 
just about Hortense's age. Do you suppose it could have 
been possible that she substituted her own child for yours 
and brought your child up as Lighthouse Nan? 

Mr. E. I never dreamed of such a thing. But we must 
investigate this thoroughly. If such a thing has been done 
I will leave no stone unturned to punish the guilty parties 
and to bring Nan into her rightful place. 

Ned. Two years ago when we were visiting at the light- 
house I found a locket that Injun Jim tried to steal from 
Mother Buzzer, In it was a miniature portrait of a lady. 

Mr. E. a tiny gold locket in the shape of a heart? 

Ned. Yes, sir. It was shaped like a heart. 

Mr. E. And the picture was painted on ivory? 

Ned. I believe so. 

Mr. E. Then it was the picture of my wife. My baby 
had that locket around her neck the night she was stolen. 

Ned. I have sent for Cap'n Buzzer and his wife to come 
here. I thought that maybe we could force the truth from 
them after all these years. Of course it may be a mere 
suspicion, but something seems to tell me that Lighthouse 
Nan is your daughter. 

Mr. E. In that case Hortense would be the daughter of 
Injun Jim. What a horrible fate for her. When will Cap'n 
Buzzer and his wife arrive? 

Ned. They'll be here tonight, Mr. Enlow. Will you see 
them? 



56 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

Mr. E. (rises). Yes, I'll see them and I'll have the truth 
at last, if it takes every dollar I'm worth. 

Enter Hortense from L. 

HoRTENSE. Father ! 

Mr. E. (goes to her). Yes? 

Hortense. I have something to say to you. 

Ned. All right. I'll just take myself and the cigar into 
the conservatory. (Exit R.) 

Hortense (coming down C). Your Christmas gift was 
very beautiful, father. I want to thank you for it. 

Mr. E. I am glad you liked it, Hortense. (Sits in front 
of fire.) 

Hortense. I have a favor I wish to ask of you. 

Mr. E. a favor? 

Hortense (stands back of him). Yes. I understand 
that you have permitted that lighthouse beggar girl to visit 
us. 

Mr. E. Now, Hortense, we'd better not discuss that. 
You know I always lose my temper. 

Hortense. And I lose mine. But this is Christmas Day 
and you are my father. I think I have a right to speak my 
mind. 

Mr. E. Very well. You generally do speak your mind 
anyway. 

Hortense. This girl must be sent back to her own 
people. 

Mr. E. (rises). Now, my dear — 

Hortense (facing him L. C). Don't you see it's for her 
own good ? You have furnished her with clothes and money, 
you have sent her to an expensive boarding-school, you 
have given her thoughts and ideas far above her station. 

Mr. E. I am deeply grateful to Nan for saving us from 
that burglar at the lighthouse two years ago. I have 
chosen this way to show my gratitude. Let us speak no 
more about it. 

Hortense. I will speak about it. I hate her. She is 
tricky and sly and underhand in all her doings. She has 
fooled you, she has entwined herself about your heart until 



I 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 57 

you obey her slightest caprice. But there must be an end 
to it. You say she is coming here tomorrow. Very well. 
That is the time to send her back where she belongs, back 
to the Buzzers at the lighthouse. Either she leaves this 
house tomorrow, or I leave it. Now, take your choice. 

Mr. E. I am the master of my house. It is my right 
to say who shall be my guests. It is my right to say what 
I shall do with my money. Now listen to me. Little Nan 
is coming here as my guest and she is to be treated with 
kindness by you and by everyone in this house. And fur- 
thermore she is to remain as long as I please. I am the 
master here. 

HoRTENSE. And I am the mistress. I will not tolerate 
that whining beggar in my house. 

Mr. E. Then perhaps you'd better take a little vacation 
until she is ready to go back to school. 

HoRTENSE. A vacation? If ever I leave your house, 
father, I shall never return to it again. 

Mr. E. Don't be foolish, Hortense, you are making a 
mountain out of a mole hill. 

Hortense. Sir Arthur and Sarah are here as our guests. 
They are of the nobility. Do you think they care to asso- 
ciate with a beggar from the streets? 

Mr. E. If they don't like Nan they have my permission 
to go back to England whenever they please. 

Hortense. You don't like Sir Arthur, do you? 

Mr. E. I do not. I think he is a common adventurer 
and I believe he is an impostor. 

Hortense. Be careful. You are speaking of my hus- 
band! 

Mr. E. Hortense! 

Hortense. It is true. I was of age last month. I mar- 
ried Sir Arthur Choke at the rectory this morning. 

Mr. E. Married him? 

Hortense. It was a grand match. It has been the am- 
bition of my Hfe to become one of the nobility. 

Mr. E. But why was I kept in ignorance of this? Why 
did you not ask my advice? 



58 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

HoRTENSE. I knew you objected to him, but I am a 
woman, father. I know the world better than you do. 
When I became of age I inherited my mother's fortune. 
I became my own mistress. 

Mr. E. Cold and unfeeling to the last. Very well, I 
will have my lawyers turn your property over to you. But 
as far as little Nan is concerned, my will is law. She is 
my guest and is to be treated as such. 

HoRTENSE. Very well. If that is the case Sir Arthur 
and myself will go to the hotel tomorrow as soon as she 
comes. 

Mr. E. But Hortense — 

HoRTENSE. You have made your decision. You have 
chosen this nameless waif in preference to your own flesh 
and blood. Tomorrow I shall leave your house. (Crosses 
to door L.) And if you take this girl into your home you> 
will be shut out from all respectable society. {Exits L.) 

Mr. E. {sitting in front of fire). Hortense married! She 
has sold herself for a title. Ned's theory has strangely 
upset me. Suppose Liza Buzzer did change the babies 
years ago. Then Hortense is the lighthouse waif and little 
Nan is my own daughter. 

t 

Enter Nan from L. in full evening costume. She tip- 
toes down behind Mr. E. and puts her hands over his eyes. 

Nan. Guess who it is. 

Mr. E. Bless my soul! It's Nan. Little Nan. {Rises, 
takes her hands.) 

Nan. Dear Mr. Enlow! My kindest friend and bene- 
factor. {Hugs him.) 

Mr. E. Why, Nan, child, how you have grown. Why, 
you're quite a little lady. 

Nan. How do you like my new dress ? {Whirls around.) 

Mr. E. It is beautiful. But I thought you weren't com- 
ing until tomorrow. 

Nan. I wanted to surprise you and I couldn't wait an- 
other minute. 

Mr. E. But no one met you at the station. 

Nan. I got into a taxi and came here at once. You 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN ' 59 

were all at dinner. I sneaked up to my old room and dressed 
up and came sneaking down to say thank-you and merry 
Christmas to the best guardian in all the world. 

Mr. E. Well, well, well; this is a surprise. (Sits facing 
fire.) 

Nan (sits on arm of his chair). And I'm to stay here 
a whole week. 

Mr. E. And how do you like your school, Nan ? 

Nan. It's lovely. I never dreamed there was as much 
happiness in store for me. I have worked hard every min- 
ute of the time just to show you that your money was well 
invested. 

Mr. E. And I am proud of my investment. You have 
brought a ray of sunshine into my gloomy old life. Nan — 
and that's worth all the money in the world. Hortense is 
proud and cold, but you seem like a real daughter to me. 

Nan. And you have been the kindest of fathers. How 
are all the family? 

Mr. E. All quite well, thank you. 

Nan. Mr. Blake is still with you, isn't he? 

Mr. E. Oh, yes, Ned's still here. He is in the conserva- 
tory. 

Nan. And I suppose his health is good. 

Mr. E. It couldn't be better. And then there is Hor- 
tense. I have a surprise for you. Nan. I suppose you 
haven't heard about the wedding? 

Nan. Wedding? Did he marry her? Why, I thought — 
that is, he proposed to me. Oh, I don't mean that ! I mean 
— well, please don't say anything about it. I wish them 
every happiness. 

Mr. E. They are leaving for England soon and I will 
be left all alone. The whole family are going to sail. Every- 
one but me. 

Nan. Family? Is there a family? A baby? 

Enter Ned from R. 

Ned. Nan, Nan ! Welcome home ! 
Nan (at C). Go away, I don't want to have anything 
to do with you. 



60 • LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

Ned. Why, Nan! 

Mr. E. (rises). How has he offended you, Nan? 

Nan. Oh, he hasn't offended me. Of course it is noth- 
ing to me. Where's your wife? 

Ned. My wife? 

Nan. And your baby? 

Ned. Who's baby? What baby? Mr. Enlow, what is 
she talking about? I haven't any baby. 

Mr. E. Nan, you shouldn't speak so to Ned. He is a 
confirmed young bachelor. Aren't you, Ned? 

Ned. Yes, sir. That is, for the present. 

Nan. Isn't he married to Miss Hortense? 

Mr. E. Why, certainly not. Hortense is now Lady 
Choke. She married Sir Arthur. (Ned surprised). 

Nan. And the baby,? 

Ned. What baby? 

Nan. Your baby. No, I mean their baby. Miss Hor- 
tense's baby. No; say, hasn't anyone in the family got a 
baby? 

Ned. Why, Nan, you are excited. You're talking wildly. 

Nan. I reckon I'm crazy. 

Mr. E. Ned, it's a disease for which you are the best 
doctor. I'll leave you two to settle the matter together. 
(Exits L.) 

Ned (seated on couch). Won't you sit down. Nan? 

Nan (distantly). I beg your pardon, Mr. Blake! 

Ned. Rather cool this evening, isn't it? A rather cool 
Christmas. 

Nan (at C). Yes, I'm rather cool myself. 

Ned. Nan, do you remember the old days at the light- 
house when I told you that a few years at school would 
change you into the bright, brilliant lady I now see before 
me? 

Nan. Yes, I remember. 

Ned. And do you remember that night at the school 
dance? (Close to her.) 

Nan. Yes, I remember. 

Ned. I asked you to be my wife that night, Nan. Now 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 61 

I ask you again. It is Christmas night. Nan, will you be 
my little Christmas present? 

Nan. What do you think I am — a jumping jack? 

Ned. Very well. I see how it is. You've met some 
other fellow at school, haven't you? My presence here 
offends you. I will not intrude any longer. Good evening, 
Miss Nan. (Crosses to L.) 

Nan. Good evening, Mr. Blake. {Sits on couch.) 

Ned {at door). I'm going. Good evening, Miss Nan. 

Nan. Good evening, good evening! 

Ned. I'm going never to return. You'll never see me 
again. I won't trouble you any more. Good evening, Miss 
Nan. 

Nan. Good evening, good evening, good evening! 

Ned {comes to C). Miss Nan! 

Nan. Are you here yet? Yes, Mr. Blake? 

Ned. If you have anything to say at parting, say it now, 
as we may never meet this side of the grave. We are part- 
ing forever. 

Nan {to audience). He's liable to do it. {To him.) Mr. 
Blake, I think your conduct is very reprehensible and your 
manners are very unbecoming. Act like a gentleman. Un- 
hand me, villain, take your arms from around my waist. 

Ned {rushes to her). Then you were only joking with- 
me? 

Nan. I don't know. Maybe I was. {He tries to em- 
brace her, she ducks under his arms and runs to C.) Mr. 
Blake, if you have anything to say to me at parting, say 
it now for we may never meet again until I powder my 
nose. {He tries to catch her. She runs out at L.) 

Ned. Bless her heart. She's the only girl in all the world 
for me. {Runs out at L.) 

Enter Ichabod and Moll from C. Moll carries hag 
of papers. 

Ichabod {looks around). Wall, I never! This yere house 
is fixed up like a palace. 

Moll. And that 'ere man didn't want to let us in, hey? 
I reckon he thought we was a couple of tramps. 



62 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

IcHABOD. Mollie, I don't reckon you orter hit him the 
way you did. City folks ain't used to gittin' hit in the bread 
basket. 

Moll. I knowed this was the place and I waren't goin' 
to let no snap-doodle whippersnapper send Moll Buzzer 
'round to the back door. I'm a lady, I am, and we're jist 
as good as anyone. 

IcHABOD. I wonder what Mr. Blake wants with we-uns. 

Moll. He must want to see us powerful bad to send 
us ten dollars f er expenses ; but if it's anything about them 
babies, you keep a still tongue in yer head and let me do 
all the talking. I knows what I knows, and what I knows 
is worth a heap of money. 

IcHABOD. I come on purpose to see my little Nan. Mr. 
Blake writ us as how she'd be yere to meet us. 

Moll. I wonder what she'll look like. I reckon as how 
she'll be too stuck up to know us any more. I never did 
want her to go 'way and git eddicated. What good is a 
eddication? What good did it ever do me? 

IcHABOD. Mr. Enlow paid us a hundred dollars to let 
her go, and you took every cent of it. You're rollin' in 
riches and here I be, jis' as poor as I ever was. {Sits on 
couch and jumps up quick.) Holy mackerel, I thought I 
set on a cat. (Feels couch.) The dern thing's alive, shore's 
yer born. (Moll starts to sit on sofa.) Go easy, old 
woman, go easy. You're liable to get blowed up. 

Moll. Don't be a plum fool, Ichabod Buzzer. (Sits.) 

IcHABOD (looking around). Pretty slick place, ain't it, 
Mollie darling? 

Enter Hortense from L. 

HoRTENSE. You here? 

Ichabod (meeting her L. C). I reckon I air. Me and 
the gentle antelope, too. 

Moll (rises). I reckon you remember me, don't y'? 

Hortense (alarmed). What brought you here? 

Ichabod. The steam keers, and I swar I never rid so 
fast in my horned days. They go lickety-split 'bout 'leven 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 63 

million miles a minute, I reckon. Now I ain't used to 
goin' fast. Old January ain't much of a traveler. 

HoRTENSE. But why have you come here? 

IcHABOD. We come to see our little Nan. She's yere, 
ain't she? 

HoRTENSE. What do you want with her? 

Moll. We wants to see her, that's what. 

HoRTENSE. I hope you'll take her back home with you. 
The city is no place for her. 

IcHABOD. Maybe we will and thin agin maybe we won't. 
But we want to see her. I ain't seen Nan for nigh onto 
two years. I got a heart in my bosom, I have. She's our 
own flesh and blood. 

HoRTENSE. Is she? Is she? 

Moll. Yes, she is. And blood is thicker than water, 
every time. 

IcHABOD. So's whisky, Mollie. Whisky is thicker'n 
water, too. 

Moll. I reckon you don't like little Nan, do y'? 

HoRTENSE. I hate her. 

Moll. You do, do you? What would yo do if she was 
to step into your shoes, my lady? 

HoRTENSE. What do you mean? You have something 
to tell me? Come to my room and I'll speak to you. 

Moll. I don't keer whether I tell it to you er to John 
Enlow. It's all the same to me. 

HoRTENSE. You'd better come and talk with me. If you 
have any secret that concerns me, I'll pay you well. 

Moll. That's the kind o' talk I likes to hear. I'll go and 
talk with you. Ichabod, you stay right here till I gits back, 
and don't you move from that spot. 

HoRTENSE. Walk this way. (Exits L.) 

Moll. Here's where I'm goin' to step into a fortune. 
(Exits L.) 

Ichabod (pours drink at table). And here's where I 
steps into a drink. (Drinks, then spits it out.) Perfumery, 
by thunder ! 

Enter Sir Arthur and Sarah from R. 



64 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

Sir Arthur (puts eyeglass in and stares at Ichabod). 
By Jove! 

Ichabod (imitates his action). By Jove yourself and 
see how ye like it. 

Sir Arthur. It's Cap'n Buzzer. 

Sarah. Only fancy ! 

Ichabod (shakes hands roughly). Much obliged, mister. 
Merry Christmas. 

Sarah. And what are you doing here in the city? 

Ichabod. Jes' drapped in to see my granddaughter. 

Sarah. How weird ! 

Sir Arthur. Are the family expecting you? 

Ichabod. Wal, if they ain't they'll git the surprise of 
their lives. You a-boarding here, mister? 

Sir Arthur. My sister and I are guests here, Cap'n 
Buzzer. I have married Mr. Enlow's daughter. 

Ichabod. Ye don't tell me. You don't look strong 
enough to marry a skeeter. 

Sarah. Only fancy! 

Enter Mr. E. from R, 

Mr. E. How do you do, Cap'n? You remember me, 
don't you? 

Ichabod. I reckon I do. (Shakes hands with him.) 

Mr. E. Did you bring your wife along? 

Ichabod. Yes, siree. The gentle antelope wouldn't 'low 
me to stir outside the place, withot'n she were with me. 

Mr. E. Family well, I suppose? 

Ichabod. All purty tolerable. 'Cept January. Old Jan- 
uary's got the heaves. 

Mr. E. And where is Mrs. Buzzer? 

Ichabod. She's upstairs talking with your daughter. 

Mr. E. Indeed ! I wonder what Hortense can have to 
say to her? 

Ichabod. Tolerable nice Christmas we've done had, Mr. 
Enlow. 

Mr. E. Yes, indeed. 

Ichabod. Me and the old woman spent most of the day 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 65 

in the keers. I ain't had nothin' to eat since breakfast. 
And I'm so thirsty I could drink water. 

Mr. E. Then come with me to my room. I'll have a 
little lunch sent up. Arthur, I wish to speak to you, also. 
(Exits R. with Ichabod.) 

Sir Arthur. Coming, dear boy, coming. (Exits R.) 

Enter Ned from L. 

Sarah. Oh, Ned, I haven't seen you since dinner. 

Ned. I was looking for Nan. 

Sarah. Has she returned? I thought she intended to 
come tomorrow. 

Ned. She changed her mind. 

Sarah. I don't see how dear Hortense can tolerate that 
creature around the house. 

Ned. She is here as the guest of Mr. Enlow. 

Sarah. But she's such a funny little thing. And her 
grammar ! Heavens, how she murders the king's English. 

Ned. That was two years ago. Miss Sarah. There's 
been a great change in Nan since she went to boarding 
school. 

Sarah. I understand Mr. Enlow sent her to school. A 
charity pupil, I suppose. How kind Mr. Enlow is. 

Ned. Yes, he is. 

Sarah. But come here and sit down. We haven't had 
a real nice cozy chat for ages. 

Ned (crosses to her and sits beside her). That's so. 

Enter Nan from L. She watches them from rear L. 

Sarah. I suppose you have heard that Arthur and Hor- 
tense were married at the rectory this morning? 

Ned. Yes, quite a surprise, wasn't it? 

Sarah. Yes, it was rather sudden. When are you go- 
ing to announce your engagement, Mr. Blake? 

Ned. In a day or two. 

Sarah. Really? 

Ned. Yes, if the young lady will accept me. 

Sarah. Is it some one I know? 

Ned. Yes, indeed. She's here. 



66 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

Sarah. What do you mean? Oh, Ned, is this a proposal? 

Ned. What? 

Sarah. Are you asking me to marry you? 

Nan (comes down C). Oh, I beg your pardon. Don't 
let me interrupt. 

Sarah (rises). Who are you? 

Nan. I'm Lighthouse Nan home for a vacation. 

Sarah. Can't you see that you are interrupting us? 
You remember the old saying, my dear, two is company 
and three is a crowd. 

Ned. Just a moment. Miss Sarah. I told you I was 
going to announce my engagement if the young lady would 
give me her consent. That young lady is Miss Nan Buzzer. 
Nan, what is your answer? 

Nan (runs to R.). I'll tell you in the conservatory. 
(Exits R.) 

Sarah. But, Ned — 

Ned. Excuse me, I've got a pressing engagement in the 
conservatory. (Runs out R.) 

Sarah. 'Twas ever thus. Oh, man, man, how you do 
trifle with the feelings of a poor young girl. (Crosses 
to L.) I'm sure if he prefers the society of that lighthouse 
brat to mine, he's perfectly welcome. (Exits L.) 

Enter Ichabod, backing in from R. He has a napkin 
around his neck and a chicken leg in his hand. 

IcHABOD (speaking to Mr. E. off R.). All right, Mr. 
Enlow. I'll find the gentle antelope and send her to you. 
(Comes down C. and yells.) Mollie, Mollie, where be ye? 

Enter Nan from R. 

Nan. Good evening. 

IcHABOD (not recognising her). Excuse me, mum, I 
ain't lookin' f er you. I'm a hollerin' fer my gentle antelope. 

Nan. Don't you know me? 

IcHABOD. I don't reckon I do. 

Nan (runs to him and takes his hands). You do, you 
know you do! 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN dl 

IcHABOD (draws away). Yere, yere, the gentle antelope 
don't 'low me to flirt with no women. 

Nan (hugs him). 

IcHABOD. Break away, break away. My wife'll have a 
conniption fit if she sees you. 

Nan. Grandad ! I'm Nan. Your little Nan. 

IcHABOD. Go on, you ain't nuther. 

Nan. And you don't know me ! 

IcHABOD. Well chew me up into little bits and put me 
in a sass-pan, if it ain't Nan. (Hugs her.) I'd never 
knowed ye in Kingdom Come. 

Nan. Oh, grandaddy, I'm so glad to see you again. 

IcHABOD. Nan, what you dressed up thataway fer? 

Nan. Don't you like it? (Whirls around.) This is the 
latest style. 

IcHABOD. You'd better take some of them tail feathers 
off and stick 'em around your neck. Your suspenders must 
be busted shore. 

Nan (sits on the arm of his chair). Now tell me every 
single thing about the lighthouse. How's January? 

IcHABOD. Porely, Nan, porely. January's got the heaves. 
Old Sukey's got a calf, the old red hen's got ten little chicks 
and the blacksmith's wife has got twins. Population is 
shore a growin' down thataway. 

Nan. And how are you and Mother Buzzer? 

IcHABOD. Jes' the same as ever. The gentle antelope 
don't give me a minute's peace day ner night. 

Nan. What brought you here to the city, grandad? 

IcHABOD. The natural feelings in my bosom. I come 
to see you. 

Nan. Oh, what good times we used to have at the old 
lighthouse. Riding around on old January and playing 
in the sand. Ah, those were happy days. Do you remem- 
ber how we used to go out in the row-boat and get red 
snapper? We always were so happy with never a care in 
the world. 

IcHABOD. Excep' old Mother Buzzer. Say, Nan? 

Nan. Yes? 



68 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

IcHABOD. Ye ain't got any spare change 'round about 
ye, have ye? 

Nan {looks in chain purse). I haven't anything but a 
dollar. 

IcHABOD. It ain't much, but maybe it'll do. (Rises.) 

Nan. Do for what? (Rises.) 

IcHABOD. I wanter buy the old lady a Christmas present. 
Some dry goods. 

Nan. I'm afraid you want to get the old man some wet 
goods. 

IcHABOD. No, I don't. I'm goin' to buy some calico and 
have a silk dress made out'n it fer the gentle antelope. 

Nan (gives him coin). There's my last dollar. 

IcHABOD. Your last dollar. (Bites it.) You go in thar 
(points L.) and see if you kin find the gentle antelope. So 
you gin me yer last dollar, did ye. Nan? 

Nan (nods). 

1CB.AB0D (tearfully). Yer last dollar? Heaven bless you. 
Nan. Heaven bless my little gal and raise her wages. 

Nan. I'll send Mother Buzzer to you. (Exits L.) 

IcHABOD. (Takes a drink from decanter, spits it out.) 
I never see sech fancy drinks as they got in this house. 
Every dern swaller tastes like perfumery. 

Enter Moll and Hortense from L. 

HoRTENSE. Now you must leave this house at once and 
take that girl with you. 

IcHABOD. We'll leave all right, my lady, but my Jittle gal 
stays right yere. 

Moll. You hush up and listen to me. Miss Hortense 
has done give me five hundred dollars fer my proofs. Git 
yer hat fer we're goin' home and we're goin' to take Nan 
along with us. 

IcHABOD. I tell ye Nan stays yere. 

Moll. She ain't of age, is she ? I'm her guardeen. She's 
gotta go with me. 

IcHABOD. Mr. Enlow wants to have a talk with you 
afore you goes. 

Moll. What's he want ? 



LIGHTHOUSE NAN 69 

IcHABOD. I dunno. He's in there. (Points to R.) Let's 
go in and see. 

Moll. ^laybe we kin git some more money. (Exits R. 

Zi'ith ICHABOD.) 

HoRTENSE (takes papers and locket from bag). Now to 
burn these papers and the secret is buried forever. 

Enter Ned from L. quickly. 

Ned. Not yet ! 

HoRTENSE. What do you mean? 
Ned. I'll just take a look at those papers. 
HoRTENSE. You dare? (Throws them in the fire.) 
Ned (takes tltem out). I am not sure, but I think the 
mystery is cleared up at last. (Goes to R.) Mr. Enlow ! 

Enter Mr. E. from R., foUoived by Ichabod and !Moll. 

Mr. E. (down R. C). What is it, Ned? 

Ned. Some papers. Look at them. 

Moll (dozen R. with Ichabod). They're mine. Give 
'em to me. Ye ain't got no right to 'em. Ichabod, get them 
papers. 

Ichabod. How am I goin' to git 'em? 

Hortense (dozvn L.). Father, don't read them. Don't 
do it, for my sake. 

Enter Sir Arthur and Sarah from L. 

Sir Arthur (putting cloak around Hortense). The 
car is at the door, Hortense. W^e shall be late for the opera. 

Mr. E. (reading papers). Just a moment. Sir Arthur. 
I have something to say to you. 

Hortense (comes to him). Don't tell him. Father, for 
my sake ! 

Mr. E. Ned, what we suspected has turned out to be 
the truth. At last we have solved the mystery. 

Hortense (pleading). No, no, father. Have mercy, 
have mercy ! 

Mr. E. This is Christmas Day, the celebration of the 
birth of the Father of all mercy. For His sake will I be 
merciful. 



70 LIGHTHOUSE NAN 

Sir Arthur (at L. with Sarah). But what does It all 
mean? 

Mr. E. (C). It means that I have decided to adopt 
little Nan as my daughter and legal heir. 

Sir Arthur. Hortense, we won't stand this. We will 
go to the courts, we will, by Jove ! 

Hortense. No, we will leave this house. Come, we'll 
go to a hotel and we'll sail on the first boat for England. 
I have done with this place forever. 

Sir Arthur. Now that you are my wife you will have 
plenty of money even if your father has treated you shab- 
bily. Come, my dear, the car is at the door. (At C. D.) 
Come, Sarah. (She joins him.) 

Hortense (to Mr. E.). Farewell, farewell, forever! 
(Exits C. D., follozved by Sir Arthur and Sarah.) 

IcHABOD. But where is little Nan. Somebody orter 
tell her the good news. 

Moll. You hush up. You ain't got a mite of sense. 
You never had none, you hain't got none now and you never 
will have none. (Pushes him in seat.) 

Enter Nan from L. 

Nan. Ned, I'm going to give you that Christmas present 
you asked me for. (Chimes heard.) 

Mr. E. Hark to the Christmas chimes. Nan, they are 
ringing for you. Your days of toil are over. They are 
ringing in a new life, a song of the everlasting angels — 
Peace on Earth, Good Will toward Men ! And this is the 
happiest night of my life. 

(Ned embraces Nan at L. Mr. E. stands C. Ichabod 
tries to embrace Moll at R.) 

Curtain. 



Deacon Dubbs 

By WALTER BEN HARE 

Price, 25 Cents 

A rural comedy-drama in 3 acts; 5 males, 5 females. Time, 
21/4 hours. One scene throughout, a farmyard, not difficult to set. 
A play of pathos, clean cut rural comedy, local color and a touch 
of sensation, making a truly great offering for amateurs. It is 
professional-like in construction, yet easily within the scope of any 
amateur society. The types are true to life, not exaggerated cari- 
catures. The star role is a comedy old farmer, not the usual stage 
type of hayseed, but the real, genuine, kind hearted, wise old 
Deacon, a part as appealing in its way, as Uncle Josh Whitcomb, 
Nathaniel Berry or David Harum. The heroine. Rose Raleigh, 
the brave little school ma'am, is a strong, emotional part. A 
country boy and a Swede hired girl are great comedy parts; also 
a comedy old maid (almost a star part), tomboy soubrette. A 
finely drawn hero, character auctioneer, an excellent villain, etc. 
The characters are almost all equally good. A male quartet and 
a crowd of villagers will greatly add to the success of the play. 
A feature scene in each act: A country auction, a country wed- 
ding, a country husking bee. This play is a sure hit. 

SYNOPSIS 

Act I. — Rose Cottage on an afternoon in June. Yennie Yensen, 
the Swedish hired girl, wants to borrow some yumps and decides to 
bid on the hired man at the auction, as "he bane a purty gude 
looking feller." Miss Philipena arranges for the auction sale. 
Rose and Amos, "Out of the broken ruins of time fair blossoms 
grow, God's last amen is a white rose." The Deacon arrives from 
Sorghum Center, State o' West Virginny. "Ding, dong, bell, 
pussy's in the well." The farm is sold to Rose Raleigh for two 
thousand dollars. The defeat of Rawdon Crawley. 

Act Il.^Same scene, a morning in August. Wedding bells. 
"Happy is the bride that the sun shines on." Deuteronomy and 
Yennie bring wedding presents. Miss Philipena takes a nap with 
disastrous results. Yennie is scared. "Your face, it bane put on 
backAvards." Back from the grave. "You are my wife. Take 
off that bridal wreath, that sparkling necklace." "Who is this 
man?" The Deacon arrests Rawdon Crawley. 

Act III. — Same scene but a year later and in autumn. The 
husking bee. Songs and merriment by the villagers. "Rawdon 
Crawley has escaped!" "This is my punishment and my punish- 
ment is more than I can bear." The Deacon returns from New 
York. Miss Philipena and the fractious cow. The Deacon's night- 
mare. "Cork. cork, cork!" A wheelbarrow for two. The Virginia 
reel. The death of Rawdon Crawley. "We'll have a double wed- 
ding and for a honeymoon we'll all go doAvn to Sorghum Center, 
State o' West Virginny." 

Theip First Quarrel 

By CHARLES NEVERS HOLMES. 

Price, 15 Cents 

A comedy; 1 male, 1 female. Time, 15 minutes. A bit of glue, 

■which has the appearance of chewing gum, underneath the seat of 

a chair — and "that's how the trouble began." A subtle bit of humor 

that will surely please. Could be played in a pa rlor without scenery. 

T. S. DENISON & COMPANY, Publishers 

154 W. Randolph Street, CHICAGO 



The Press-Agent's Handbook 

By FREDERICK G. JOHNSON. 

Price, 25 Cents 

How to advertise a play. Designed primarily for the use of 
dramatic clubs and other groups of amateur entertainers. The in- 
formation is clearly and concisely presented. Fine-spun, untried 
theories have been studiously avoided. The material is largely 
the direct result of experience gained by a practical advertising 
man in promoting' the publicity for many amateur entertainments, 
and his financial success has been the best testimonial for the 
value of the advice given in this book. 

CONTENTS. 
Chapter I. — The Need of a Press-Agent. 

The Press-Agent Is Responsible — ^Duty of the Press-Agent— 
"Wasting Ammunition — "Learning the Ropes" in Advance. 
Chapter II. — Selecting the Press- Agent. 

Experience not Essential — Newspaper Training of Value — 
General Requirements. 
Chapter III. — Advertising Mediums. 

Handbills — Window Cards — Posters and Billboards — News- 
paper Advertising — Hand -made Posters — Personal "Work. 
Chapter IV. — The Newspaper Campaign. 

Make Friends — Business First — How Much Appropriation? — 
A Small Town Advantage — Use All Newspapers — Live up to 
the Agreement — Getting Acquainted — Exclusive Notices — De- 
velop Gradually — The Final Week — Depends on Circumstances — 
Country Weeklies — Expressing Appreciation. 
Chapter V. — Preparing News Copy. 

Readers Must Contain News — Preparation Important — Ex- 
change of Service — Novelty tlie Keynote — "New" and "Exclu- 
sive" — ^Don't Be Offended — Preparing News Copy — Each Notice 
Complete — Carbon Copies — Length of Notices — Best Kind of 
Material — Human Interest Most Important. 
Chapter VI. — Preparing Advertising Copy. 

Simplicity the Keynote — Good Taste a Requisite — Saving 
Space — Using a Model — Size of Type — Newspaper Instructions — 
Teaser Campaign — Hints on Posters. 
Chapter VII. — The Outdoor Campaign. 

For the Small Town — Teasers — ^Follow Up — Posters — Hand- 
bills — Personal Work. 
Chapter VIM. — Novel Advertising Stunts. 

Hand-made Window Cards — The Float — Scenic Float — The 
Parade — Street Car Hangers. 
Chapter IX. — Ticket Schemes. 

Various Methods — On Sale at Stores — Solicitation by Mail — 
Why It Is Not Advised — Personal Disposal — Selling by Districts 
— Sale by the Players — Insist on Cash Sales — ^When Prices Are 
Scaled — Reserved Seats — Advance Sale — Sale by Contest — Com- 
plimentary Tickets — Passes for ISTewspapers — ^When to Give 
Passes — Copy for Tickets. 
Chapter X. — Programs. 

A Regular Formula — ^A Model Program — Musical Plays- 
Clearness and Accuracy — Printing Programs — How Many to 
Print — Program Advertising. 
Chapter XI. — Specimen Press Notices. 

Brief Opening Notice — More Elaborate Opening Notice — 
First Follow-Up — Second Follow-Up — Third FoUow-Up — 
Fourth Follow-Up — Fifth FollowrUp— Very Short Reader — To 
Be Used Just Before Date of Performance — Humorous Advance 
Notice. 

T. S. DENISON & COMPANY, Publishers 

154 W. Randolph Street, CHICAGO 



DENISON'S ACTING PLAYS 

Price 15 Cents Each, Postpaid, Unless Different Price Is Given 



M. F. 

Winning Widow, 2 acts, 11/2 hrs. 

„, (25c) .' 2 4 

Women Who Did, 1 hr...(2Sc) 17 

Yankee Detective, 3 acts, 2 hrs. 8 3 

FARCES. COMEDIETAS, Etc. 

All on a Summer's Day, 40 min. 4 6 

April Fools, 30 min 3 

Assessor, The, 10 min 3 2 

Baby Show at Pineville, 20 min. 19 

Billy's Chorus Girl, 25- min... 2 3 

Billy's Mishap, 20 min 2 3 

Borrowed Luncheon, 20 min,. 5 

Borrowing Trouble, 20 min 3 5 

Case Against Casey, 40 min... 23 

Country Justice, 15 min 8 

Cow that Kicked Chicago, 20 m. 3 2 

Divided Attentions, 35 min 1 4 

Dude in a Cyclone, 20 min.... 4 2 

Family Strike, 20 min 3 3 

First-Class Hotel, 20 min 4 

For Love and Honor, 20 min.. 2 1 

Fudge and a Burglar, 15 min.. 5 

Fun in Photo Gallery, 30 min.. 6 10 
Great Medical Dispensary, 30 m. 6 
Great Pumpkin Case, 30 min.. 12 

Hans Von Smash, 30 min.... 4 3 

I'm Not Mesilf at All, 25 min. 3 2 
Initiating a Granger, 25 min.. 8 

Irish Linen Peddler, 40 min... 3 3 

Is the Editor In? 20 min... 4 2 

Kansas Immigrants, 20 min... 5 1 

Men Not Wanted, 30 min 8 

Mike Donovan's Courtship. 15 m. 1 3 

Mother Goose's Goslings, 30 m. 7 9 

Mrs. Jenkins' Brilliant Idea, 35m. 8 

Mrs. Stubbins' Book Agent, 30 m. 3 2 

My Wife's Relations, 1 hr.... 4 6 

Not a Man in the House, 40 m. 5 

Pair of Lunatics, 20 min 1 1 

Patsy O'Wang, 35 min 4 3 

Pat, the Apothecary, 35 min.. 6 2 

Persecuted Dutchman, 30 min. 6 3 

Regular Fix, 35 min 6 4 

Second Childhood, 15 min.... 2 2 

Shadows, 35 min ' 2 2 

Sing a Song of Seniors, 30 min. 7 

Taking Father's Place, 30 min. 5 3 

Taming a Tiger, 30 min 3 

That Rascal Pat, 30 min 3 2 

Those Red Envelopes, 25 min. 4 4 
Too Much of a Good Thing, 45 

min 3 6 

Turn Him Out, 35 min 3 2 

Two Aunts and a Photo, 20 m. 4 
Two Gentlemen in a Fix, 15 m. 2 

Two Ghosts in White, 20 min.. 8 

Two of a Kind, 40 min 2 3 

Uncle Dick's Mistake, 20 min.. 3 2 

Wanted a Correspondent, 45 m. 4 4 

Wanted a Hero. 20 min 1 1 



M. F. 

Wide Enough for Two, 45 min. 5 2 

Wrong Baby, 25 min 8 

Yankee Peddler, 1 hr 7 3 

VAUDEVILLE SKETCHES, MON- 
OLOGUES, ETHIOPIAN PLAYS. 

Ax'in' Iler Father, 25 min.... 2 3 
Booster Club of Blackville, 25 m.lO 
Breakfast Food for Two, 20 m. 1 1 

Cold Finish, 15 min 2 1 

Colored Honeymoon, 25 min... 2 2 
Coon Creek Courtship, 15 min. 1 1 
Coming Champion, 20 min.... 2 
Coontown Thirteen Club, 25 m.l4 

Counterfeit Bills, 20 min 1 1 

Darktown Fire Brigade, 25 min. 10 
Doings of a Dude, 20 min.... 2 1 

Dutch Cocktail, 20 min 2 

For Reform, 20 min 4 

Fresh Timothy Hay, 20 min . . 2 1 
Glickman, the Glazier, 25 min. 1 1 
Good Momin' Judge, 35 min. . 9 2 

Her Hero, 20 min 1 1 

Hey, Rube! IS min... 1 

Home Run, 15 min 1 1 

Jumbo Jum, 30 min 4 3 

Little Red School Hpuse, 20 m. 4 

Love and Lather, 35 min 3 2 

Marriage and After, 10 min.. 1 

Memphis Mose, 25 min 5 1 

Mischievous Nigger, 25 min.. 4 2 

Mistaken Miss, 20 min 1 1 

Mr. and Mrs. Fido, 20 min 1 1 

Oh, Doctor! 30 min 6 2 

One Sweetheart for Two, 20 m. 2 
Oshkosh Next Week, 20 min . . 4 

Oyster Stew, 10 min 2 

Pete Yansen's Gurl's Moder, 10m. 1 

Pickles for Two, 15 min 2 

Pooh Bah of Peacetown, 35 min. 2 2 
Prof. Black's Funnygraph, 15 m. 6 

Sham Doctor, 10 min 4 2 

Si and I, 15 min 1 

Special Sale, 15 min 2 

Stage Struck Darky, 10 min.. 2 1 
Sunny Son of Italy, 15 min.. 1 

Time Table, 20 min 1 1 

Tramp and the Actress, 20 min. 1 1 
Troubled by Ghosts, 10 min... 4 
Troubles of Rozinski, 15 min.. 1 
Two Jay Detectives, 15 min.. 3 

Umbrella Mender, 15 min 2 

Uncle Jeff, 25 min 5 2 

What Happened to Hannah, 15m. 1 1 



A great number of 

Standard and Amateur Plays 

not found here are listed In 

Denlson's Catalogue 



T. S. DENISON & COMPANY, Publishers,154 W. Randolph St. . Chicago 



POPULAR ENTERTAI^ 

Price, Illustrated Paper Covei 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




IN this Series 
are found 
books touching 
every feature 
in the enter- 
tainment field. 
Finely made, 
good paper, 
clear print and 
each book has 
an attractive 
individual cov- 
er design. 
A Partial List 

DIALOGUES 

All Sorts of Dialogues. 

Selected, fine for older pupils. 
Catchy Comic Dialogues. 

Very clever; for young people. 
Children's Comic Dialogues. 

From six to eleven years of age. 
Country School Dialogues. 

Brand new, original. 
Dialogues for District Schools. 

For country schools. 
Dialogues from Dickens. 

Thirteen selections. 
The Friday Afternoon Dialogues. 

Over 50,000 copies sold. 
From Tots to Teens. 

Dialogues and recitations. 
Humorous Homespun Dialogues. 

For older ones. 
Little People's Plays. 

From 7 to 13 years of age. 
Lively Dialogues. 

For all ages; mostly humorous. 
Merry Little Dialogues. 

Thirty-eight original selections. 
When the Lessons are Over. 

Dialogues, drills, plays. 
Wide Awake Dialogues. 

Original successful. 

SPEAKERS, MONOLOGUES 

Choice Pieces for Little People. 

A child's speaker. 
The Cornic Entertainer. 

Recitations, monologues, dialogues. 
Dialect Readings. 

Irish, Dutch, Negro, Scotch, etc. 
The Favorite Speaker. 

Choice prose and poetry. 
The Friday Afternoon Speaker. 

For pupils of all ages. 
Humorous Monologues. 

Particularly for ladies. 
Monologues for Young Folks. 

Clever, humorous, original. 




Mon< 

Scri.. ..?.. 01? 401 106 ""0 

Choice collections, pathetic, hu- 
morous, descriptive, prose, 
poetry. 15 Nos., per No. 26c 

DRILLS 

The Best Drill Book. 

Very popular drills and marches. 
The Favorite Book of Drills. 

Drills that sparkle with originality. 
Little Playa With Drills. 

For children from 6 to 11 years. 
The Surprise Drill Book. 

Fresh, novel, drills and marches. 

SPECIALTIES 

The Boys' Entertainer. 

Monologues, dialogues, drills. 
Children's Party Book. 

Invitations, decorations, games. 
The Days We Celebrate. 

Entertainments for all the holidays. 
Good Things for Christmas. 

Recitations, dialogues, drills. 
Good Things for Sunday Schools. 

Dialogues, exercises, recitations. 
Good Things for Thanksgiving. 

A gem of a book. 
Good Things for Washington 

and Lincoln Birthdays. 
Little Folks' Budget. 

Easy pieces to speak, songs. 
One Hundred Entertainments. 

New parlor diversions, socials. 
Patriotic Celebrations. 

Great variety of material. 
Pictured Readings and Tableaux. 

Entirely original features. 
Pranks and Pastimes. 

Parlor games for children. 
Private Theatricals. 

How to put on plays. 
Shadow Pictures, Pantomimes, 

Charades, and how to prepare. 
Tableaux and Scenic Readings. 

New and novel; for all ages. 
Twinkling Fingers and Sway- 
ing Figures. For little tots. 
Yuletide Entertainments. 

A choice Christmas collection. 

MINSTRELS, JOKES 

Black American Joker. 

Minstrels' and end men's gags. 
A Bundle of Burnt Cork Comedy. 

Monologues, stump speeches, etc. 
Laughland,vla the Ha-Ha Route. 

A merry trip for fun tourists. 
Negro Minstrels. 

All about the business. 
The New Jolly Jester. 

Funny stories, jokps. Rags, etc. 

Large Illustrated Catalogue Fre* 



T.S. DENISON & COMPANY, Publishers.154 W. Randolph St. . Chicago 



